Drma 
.al 


HELEN 


«F  .  IX* 


HELEN 


A   STORY  OF  THINGS   TO  BE 


BY 

LU  WHEAT 

Author  of  "The  Smiling  Book,"  "The  Third  Daughter,"  etc. 


THE  GRAFTON  PRESS 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1908, 
By  LU  WHEAT 


All  rights  reserved 


DEDICATED  TO 

ONE  I  LOVED 

AND  IN  MEMORY  OF  THE 
DAYS  WE  SPENT  TOGETHER 
UNDER  THE  LIVE  OAK  TREES 
OF  SOUTH  PASADENA 


2134060 


PKEFACE 

It  was  predicted  many  years  ago  that  the  great 
mountain  ranges,  the  leagues  upon  leagues  of  un- 
trammeled  space,  and  the  evanescent  color  of  the 
landscape  in  Southern  California  would  write  them- 
selves upon  the  characters  of  those  who  wrought 
there;  and  the  prophecy  seems  to  be  coming  true. 
The  out  of  door  life,  the  never  ceasing  marvel  of 
bloom,  the  evening  glow,  all  seem  to  conspire  with 
each  other  to  evolve  in  the  beholder  new  modes  of 
thought. 

Perhaps  thus  grown,  one  is  not  so  rugged  as  the 
blizzard-defying  man,  nor  so  ultra-respectable  as 
those  whom  we  designate  as  "  Yankee,"  but  he  is 
large  with  faith  in  humanity  and  untiring  in  the 
service  of  the  commonwealth.  If  Helen  is  over- 
drawn it  is  only  because  she  feels  the  moods  and 
tenses  and  inflections  of  the  land.  As  the  Bedouin 
loves  the  sand,  and  as  the  Chinaman  loves  Cathay, 
so  does  the  Californian  love  the  gray  green  hills  and 
the  fierce  pure  air  that  colors  his  work  and  whispers 
to  his  soul.  Nowhere  else  does  humanity  grope  so 
surely  toward  sunlit  mountain  peaks;  nowhere  else 
does  the  mind  answer  to  the  stimulus  of  the  beauti- 
ful as  it  does  there.  If  the  old  Californian  sees 
in  Helen  a  child  of  his  own,  the  object  of  this  little 
book  will  have  been  accomplished. 

Lu  WHEAT. 
Los  Angeles,  California. 

vii 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I.  A  Home  in  Southern  California. —  Helen  the 
only  child. —  The  old  hound. —  A  psychic  strain. — 
Old  Joe 3 

CHAPTER  II.  A  Pinto  Pony. —  Payment  for  services  as 

housekeeper. —  A  morning  ride. —  Scenery. —  Luisa  6 

CHAPTER  III.  A  Herder's  predictions. —  Loss  of  stock  in 
a  dry  year. —  The  Yuccas. —  The  rarified  air. — 
Helen's  anxiety 15 

CHAPTER  IV.  Art. —  The  father's  story  of  himself. — 
Prayers  for  rain. —  The  three  trees. —  Helen  wor- 
ries.—  A  Spaniard. —  A  storm. —  Rescue  of  the  cow 
and  calf. —  Change  in  the  river  bed 21 

CHAPTER  V.  Mark  Watkins. —  A  week's  visit. —  Death  of 

Andrews. —  John  Stanford. —  Renting  the  ranch  .  37 

CHAPTER  VI.  No  will. —  Preparations  for  moving. —  Stan- 
ford's advice. —  Burlingham  and  his  family. —  A 
cup  of  tea 48 

CHAPTER  VII.    Buena   Vista. —  Mrs.   Parker. —  Margaret. 

—  A  new  home. —  Introductions. —  Gossip. —  A  non- 
conformist         53 

CHAPTER   VIII.    Mark    Watkins'  visit. —  The   tenderfoot. 

—  Culture. —  A    miserable    episode. —  A    sky    like 
wool. —  Bad  dreams 61 

CHAPTER  IX.     Sunday   morning. —  Mrs.    Burlingham's   ad- 
vice.—  Mary  Jane. —  Missionary  work. —  Billy's  an- 
ger.—  Reconciliation. —  John  Stanford's  visit. —  The 
cow 68 

CHAPTER  X.  Quoting  Scripture. —  Giving  up  art. —  Un- 
expected visitors. —  The  camp  meeting. —  Them's 
lawyers. —  Quarrels  over  boundary  line. —  Mr.  Aus- 
tin's good-bye. —  A  crushed  bird's  nest  .  .  .81 

CHAPTER  XI.  John  Stanford's  opinion. —  Metes  and 
bounds. —  Going  to  camp-meeting. —  Interviewing 
the  country  people. —  The  use  of  money. —  The 
mocking  bird. —  A  good  cry. —  The  death  of  old  Joe  S3 

CHAPTER  XII.     Recuperation. —  The  baptismal  certificate. 

—  Address  to  the  old  tree. —  Off  to  Don  Alnerado's. 

—  The  settlement  of  the  case. —  The  dinner  .     ;..     .   108 

ix 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XIII.  Mr.  Watkins'  Philosophy. —  In  court. — 
The  saloon. —  Jennie. —  A  Sick  Woman. —  A  Family 
resemblance. —  Sister  Simplicitas 122 

CHAPTER  XIV.  Opinions  at  Gospel  Swamp. —  The  Justice 

of  the  Peace. —  Jake  White 134 

CHAPTER  XV.  More  attempts  at  art. —  A  shot. —  A  quar- 
rel.—  Burlingham's  sickness. —  A  large  funeral. — 
The  Sermon 136 

CHAPTER  XVI.     Dr.  Mathew  Watkins. —  Total  depravity. 

—  Charges  against  the  dead. —  A  new  idea     .      .      .   146 
CHAPTER    XVII.     The    Convent. —  Misunderstandings. —  A 

herder's  story. —  The  pulquaria. —  Another  child     .    153 
CHAPTER  XVIII.    After  the  wedding. —  Helen's  loneliness. 

—  The  burial  of  the  bronco. —  Jim  Baker. —  Looney  162 
CHAPTER  XIX.     Back  to  town. —  A  criminal   case. —  Love 

—  Helen's  Opinion  of  Society. —  Guilty   ....   167 
CHAPTER  XX.    The  Andrews  estate  settled. —  New  ways 

of  serving. —  The  bail  bond. —  Consultation  of  the 
two  brothers. —  A  new  philosophy  of  thought  .  .172 

CHAPTER  XXI.  The  arid  season. —  Salvation. —  Hospital 
service. —  The  wild  trumpeter. —  The  calm  after  a 
storm 180 

CHAPTER  XXII.  A  highwayman. —  Confidences. —  The 
highwayman's  opinion  of  law. —  The  right  word. — 
An  interview. —  Address  to  the  tomato  can  .  .  .  186 

CHAPTER  XXIII.  Professional  etiquette. —  The  science  of 
human  conduct. —  A  miracle  of  healing. —  Concern 
about  children. —  A  drought-defying  plant. —  Mis- 
sionary work. —  Comedy  and  Tragedy  .  .  .  .193 

CHAPTER  XXIV.  At  the  convent. —  Intellectual  compan- 
ionship.—  A  happy  home  .  .  ...  ,.  ...  ,.  ...  ,.  205 


HELEN 


CHAPTER  I 

"  No  sheltered  room,  or  school,  can  commune  with  me." 

—  Walt  Whitman. 

THE  old  adobe  house  in  which  William  Andrews 
lived  stands  upon  a  knoll  overlooking  a  beautiful 
valley  in  southern  California.  Thick  walled  and 
deep  windowed,  it  bears  testimony  to  the  early  days 
when  labor  was  cheap  and  material  was  gathered 
from  the  immediate  vicinity  in  which  it  was  used. 

Ten  pillars  on  each  side,  hewn  from  trees  in  a 
neighboring  canon,  support  a  roof,  beneath  which 
are  spacious  rooms  and  wide  verandas.  At  the  back 
of  the  house,  acres  and  acres  of  mesa  land  undulate 
toward  the  mountains,  while  the  tinkle  of  bells  and 
the  barking  of  dogs  tell  of  sheep  fattening  lazily  on 
the  rich  burr  clover. 

The  one  dark  cloud  that  hung  over  the  life  of 
Andrews,  and  colored  all  his  days,  was  that  while  he 
was  still  young  the  grim  hand  of  Death  had  torn 
his  wife  from  his  side.  When  he  first  saw  that  she 
was  dead,  he  put  his  great  strong  arms  around  his 
only  child  and  denied  that  there  was  any  God.  But, 
later,  he  strengthened  under  the  ordeal  and  ac- 
cepted the  malign  aspects  of  life  as  part  of  a  plan 
which  in  the  end  he  believed  would  be  good. 

One  morning,  just  after  breakfast  Andrews  drew 
his  chair  over  to  a  window  and  sat  looking  out  to- 


ward  the  little  square  of  ground  that  had  been  set 
apart  for  a  graveyard.  His  forehead  was  knit,  and 
his  lips  were  drawn  tightly  together  over  his  well- 
shaped  teeth.  An  old  hound  that  had  lain  dozing 
near  the  door  got  up  and  and  came  over  to  him,  look- 
ing wistfully  into  his  face. 

"  Now,  see  there,  Helen,"  Andrews  said  to  his 
daughter,  "  haven't  you  noticed  how  often  Nero 
rivets  his  eyes  on  me  when  we  speak  about  mother  ? 
I  verily  believe  he  knows  that  she  lies  buried  out 
there  beyond  the  orchard." 

Helen  swallowed  at  a  lump  in  her  throat,  but 
made  no  reply. 

"  It's  too  bad  — "her  father  began  again,  but  left 
the  sentence  unfinished,  and,  getting  up,  took  his 
hat  from  a  nail  on  the  door-casing  and  went  out. 

His  daughter  looked  after  him  with  a  mournful 
expression,  yet  uttered  no  word;  when  he  had  dis- 
appeared behind  the  woodshed  she  went  to  the  table 
and,  gathering  the  scraps  into  a  basin,  called  Nero 
and  set  them  before  him  on  the  veranda  floor. 

"  Good  old  dog,"  she  said,  patting  him  on  the 
head,  "what  did  you  mean  when  you  looked  that 
way  at  father  ?  " 

As  she  bent  toward  him,  a  ray  of  sunshine  glinted 
across  her  shoulder  and  quivered  for  a  moment  upon 
her  face,  revealing  an  almost  abnormal  development 
of  the  spiritual.  Her  eyes  were  deep  set  in  their 
sockets,  with  dark  shadows  thrown  across  them  by 
the  long  lashes;  and  the  quick  play  of  thought  in 
her  sensitive  features  seemed  to  circle  in  a  yellow 
radiance  about  her  hair. 


HELEN  5 

"  You  are  a  good  dog,"  she  continued,  "  can't 
you  tell  me  what  you  think  ?  " 

Just  then  an  Indian,  who  was  chopping  wood 
near  by,  laid  down  his  ax  and  looked  off  toward 
the  mountains. 

"  Do  you  feel  it?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  Feel  what  ?  "  queried  old  Joe. 

"  Something  mysterious  in  the  air  this  morning." 

"  No,"  answered  the  Indian,  "  I  feel  nothing, 
but  the  heat  coming  in  from  the  desert.  It  will  be 
cooler  when  the  sea  breeze  comes  up." 

"  Oh,"  said  Helen,  "  that  is  not  what  I  mean. 
Father  is  not  happy  this  morning.  He  talked  about 
mother  and  then  said  that  he  wanted  to  give  me 
some  of  the  cattle  and  then  Nero  acted  queerly." 

"  It's  nothing  but  the  heat,"  replied  Joe. 

Helen  picked  up  the  empty  basin  and  went  back 
into  the  house.  A  Chinaman  took  the  dish  and 
piled  it  with  others  in  the  sink. 

"  Too  muchee  hot,"  said  he,  "  cut  wood  to-day 
no  can  do." 

"  No,"  said  Helen,  "  you  and  Joe  can  both  work 
under  cover.  There  is  mustard  to  winnow  and  burrs 
to  pick  out  of  the  wool." 

Sing  Hi  smiled  and  going  out  for  an  armful  of 
wool  said  to  the  Indian  "  .Velly  good  girl,  not  muchee 
work  to-day." 

"  Yes,  heap  good  "  answered  the  Indian. 


CHAPTER  II 

As  Andrews  passed  out,  he  stopped  at  the  wood- 
shed and  picked  up  a  coil  of  hair-rope  which  he 
slipped  lightly  over  his  arm  and  then  went  on  to 
the  barn.  A  pinto  pony  spied  the  rope  and  know- 
ing that  it  had  to  do  with  cattle,  dug  her  nose  into 
the  manger  and  chewed  voraciously. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you,  Mandy,"  Andrews  said. 
"  You're  not  so  hungry  as  you  make  believe.  You 
don't  want  to  work,  but  you  must."  At  this  he 
slipped  a  Spanish  bit  into  the  horse's  mouth  and 
led  her  back  to  the  kitchen  door.  Setting  one  foot 
firmly  upon  the  veranda,  he  called: 

"  Helen,  I  say,  Helen !  I  am  going  to  drive  up 
a  bunch  of  the  cattle  and  you  can  come  out  and  take 
your  pick." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  any  of  them,  father.  I  have 
done  the  best  I  could  with  the  work  since  mother 
died;  but  I  don't  want  to  be  paid  for  it." 

"  Yes,  Helen,"  her  father  answered  seriously, 
"  but  you  know  how  I  feel  about  it.  Mother  al- 
ways said  that  a  woman's  time  was  worth  as  much  as 
a  man's.  I  don't  want  her  to  look  down  upon  me 
and  see  that  I  haven't  done  the  square  thing  by  you. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  whether  she  knows  how  I  have 
let  the  care  of  the  home  fall  on  your  young 
shoulders." 


HELEN  7 

The  daughter  came  out  upon  the  veranda,  and, 
with  an  impulsive  movement,  caught  her  father's 
hand  and  kissed  it;  but  still  insisted  that  she  did 
not  wish  any  of  the  stock. 

Andrews  took  no  notice  of  her  objection,  but  drew 
the  cinch  tighter  under  the  mare's  belly  and  pre- 
pared to  mount.  As  he  did  so  the  pony  put  back  her 
ears  in  a  manner  calculated  to  inspire  fear;  at 
which  Helen  patted  the  mare's  sensitive  nose  and 
said  apologetically: 

"  Mandy's  tired !  Sam  rode  her  to  Serrano  yes- 
terday and  hobbled  her  last  night,  and  she's  not  had 
time  to  eat." 

Her  father,  paying  no  attention  to  these  excuses, 
took  one  end  of  the  lariat  in  his  hand  and  swung 
lightly  into  the  saddle.  Mandy  understood  and 
turned  toward  a  mesa,  where  the  cattle  were  falling 
into  line,  with  their  heads  toward  an  old  wind- 
mill that  creaked  in  the  canon  below.  Seeing 
that  no  further  parley  was  intended,  Helen  spoke 
again : 

"  Well,  Father,  if  you  insist  upon  giving  me  any- 
thing, give  me  Mandy.  There  are  plenty  of  horses 
on  the  ranch,  but  I  like  Mandy." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Andrews  in  surprise,  "  of 
course,  you  can  have  Mandy!  I  didn't  know  that 
you  liked  her.  She's  a  stubborn  little  brute,  and 
if  she  wills  not  to  go  that's  the  end  of  it  she 
won't  go.  But  you  can  have  her.  She  knows 
enough :  She  can  walk  a  log  and  tell  quicksand  the 
minute  she  sees  it." 

With  a  perceptibly  lightened  expression  his  face, 


8  HELEN 

Andrews  turned  the  horse's  head  back  toward  the 
veranda  and  began  to  take  off  the  lariat. 

"  Of  course,  you  can  have  Mandy,"  he  repeated. 
"  I  wonder  I  did  not  think  of  it  before.  Now  you 
can  go  over  to  Alvarado's  and  sse  the  girls  whenever 
you  wish,  and  there's  a  new  neighbor  a  couple  of 
miles  down  the  river  whom  you  can  visit." 

At  this,  he  put  the  bridle  into  Helen's  hand.  She 
kissed  him  again,  and  then,  turning  to  the  pony, 
said: 

"  They  shan't  work  you  so  hard  any  more,  Mandy, 
and  you  shall  have  sugar — " 

"  You'll  spoil  her,"  interrupted  her  father. 
"  Broncos  are  obstinate  creatures,  and  petting  makes 
them  worse,  but  then  —  she's  yours  —  go  ahead !  " 

Helen  gathered  up  her  skirts  and  was  putting  one 
foot  in  the  stirrup  when  old  Joe  came  limping  up 
with  an  air  of  concern  upon  his  face.  He  executed 
a  curve  with  his  elbow,  implying  that  the  back  of 
Mandy  Jones  might  hump  up  and  pitch  Helen  off. 
At  this  Helen  laughed,  and  as  she  expressed  no 
fear,  the  Indian  felt  carefully  for  the  tightness  of 
the  girth,  tested  the  bridle,  and  lifted  the  girl  into 
the  saddle. 

The  two  men  watched  her  gallop  gracefully  away ; 
then  each  went  to  his  respective  duty. 

There  was  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  about  the 
pony  that  Andrews  had  given  to  his  daughter.  She 
was  just  a  plain  bronco,  rejoicing  in  the  name  of 
"  Mandy  'Jones,"  an  euphonious  name  and  very 
suitable,  for  Jones  —  over  on  the  Mojave  —  raised 
her;  and  Jones'  little  girl,  Mandy,  was  buried  in 


HELEN  9 

the  shifting  sands  of  the  desert :  hence  the  "  Mandy," 
and  hence  the  "  Jones." 

After  the  death  of  the  little  girl,  Jones  was  home- 
sick and  wanted  to  go  back  East,  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  he  offered  to  sell  the  pony  and  Andrews, 
being  in  need  of  a  herding  horse,  went  to  look  at 
her. 

"  She's  as  gentle  as  a  dog,"  said  Jones.  "  My 
little  girl  could  crawl  right  under  her  and  not  get 
hurt." 

This  recommendation  Andrews  took  with  several 
grains  of  salt,  for  there  was  too  much  white  in 
Mandy's  eye  and  she  puffed  out  too  much  when 
the  cinch  was  tightened  to  be  amiable.  But  he 
bought  her,  notwithstanding,  because  he  was  looking 
for  toughness  rather  than  docility.  He  wanted  a 
horse  that  he  could  ride  all  day  and  all  night,  if 
need  be,  and  she  filled  the  bill  exactly.  He  knew 
by  her  looks  that  she  could  run  sixty  miles  a  day 
and  live  on  mesquite  beans  a  month  at  a  time. 
So  he  took  two  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces  from  a 
leather  bag  and  handed  them  to  Jones,  saying: 

"  I  reckon  she'll  do." 

Jones  took  the  money,  and  Andrews  swung  him- 
self astride  of  the  horse.  She  went  like  a  top, 
throwing  up  the  sand  behind  her  heels,  and  glancing 
suspiciously  into  the  chaparral  as  though  her  mis- 
sion on  earth  was  to  look  for  stray  cattle.  Andrews 
patted  her  on  the  neck  and  said :  "  Jones  has 
trained  you  well,  but  you  look  stubborn." 

Mandy  paid  no  attention  to  the  compliment,  but 
sped  on,  bearing  her  new  owner  safely  to  his  own 


10  HELEN 

home.  Three  days  later,  however,  she  had  pulled 
up  her  stake  pin,  jumped  a  wire  fence,  and  gone 
back  to  Jones.  The  hired  man,  who  toiled  over 
fifty  miles  of  desert  to  bring  her  back,  said :  "  She 
ought  to  be  shot,"  but  Jones  said :  "  I  knew  she'd 
come  back." 

Such  was  the  little  bronco  that  Helen  accepted 
in  full  payment  of  services  rendered  as  housekeeper 
on  her  father's  ranch.  In  sheer  delight  of  owner- 
ship, she  galloped  up  the  road.  The  rein  lay  lightly 
on  Mandy's  neck,  and  because  the  sagacious  little 
beast  liked  burr  clover  better  than  salt  grass,  she 
took  to  the  higher  levels.  As  the  path  wound  up 
and  up,  great  stretches  of  valley  came  to  Helen's 
view;  while  forty  miles  away  the  Sierra  Madras 
sparkled  with  evanescent  color.  The  far  peaks 
caught  the.  rays  of  the  morning  sun  and  sent  them 
floating  across  deep  canons.  The  great  boulders 
caught  them,  and  changed  from  common  rock  to 
precious  stones;  the  ravines  seemed  like  deep  places 
packed  full  of  rainbow-tinted  haze.  On  Arrow 
Head,  the  shafts  of  granite  looked  like  beaten  gold, 
while  not  far  from  where  Helen  stood  a  mirage 
was  forming  around  an  old  sahuaro  which  caused 
the  tree  to  take  on  enormous  proportions.  Its 
shaggy  and  blackened  trunk  quivered  and  seemed 
nodding  to  her  while  below  in  the  deep  blue  mirage 
water  each  leaf  and  branch  was  reflected  and  magni- 
fied. 

The  view  inspired  in  the  girl  thoughts  akin  to 
worship.  All  the  world  seemed  to  her  divine.  The 
only  evidence  she  had  that  any  other  human  being 


HELEN  11 

besides  herself  saw  this  grand  panorama  was  a  slim 
column  of  smoke  that  rose  straight  up  into  the  air, 
several  miles  to  the  eastward.  As  the  girl  watched 
it,  a  man  mounted  his  horse  and  crept  along  a  steep 
road  until  he  reached  level  ground,  then  rode  off, 
swinging  a  lariat  above  his  head.  The  vast  space 
as  this  lone  figure  sped  across  the  horizon  added 
to  the  tension  that  had  hung  over  all  the  events  of 
the  morning.  Never  before  had  Helen  ridden  out 
into  this  wonderful  sea  of  color  and  felt  its  spell 
as  she  did  now.  She  turned  to  a  high  wall  of 
purple  rock,  and  touched  it  with  her  hand  to  make 
sure  that  she  saw  correctly ;  then,  with  a  little  shud- 
der, she  turned  Mandy's  head  toward  home. 

Old  Joe  was  anxiously  waiting  for  her.  He 
knew  that  as  a  child  Helen  had  loved  to  wander 
alone,  and  tradition  told  him  that  evil  spirits  some- 
times conspired  with  foxes  to  lure  off  young  girls. 
No  nurse  was  ever  more  devoted  to  the  child  en- 
trusted to  her  care  than  was  this  crippled  Indian 
devoted  to  the  young  woman  whom  he  served  and 
whose  dead  mother  he  held  in  loving  remembrance. 
When  he  saw  her  coming,  he  left  his  work  and 
stood  ready  to  lead  Mandy  to  the  barn.  But  Helen 
declined  his  services. 

"  I  will  feed  her  and  take  all  the  care  of  her  my- 
self, dear  old  Joe,"  she  said,  "  for  I  wish  to  be- 
come well  acquainted  with  my  new  possession.  You 
know  I  have  foolish  ideas  about  animals.  Father 
says  I  am  not  practical;  but  since  he  has  given 
Mandy  to  me  I  mean  to  try  my  own  plans  with 
her." 


IS  HELEN 

"  Tell  it  to  me  what  your  plans  are,"  said  Joe 
doubtfully. 

"  You  will  only  laugh." 

"  No,  me  not  laugh,"  said  Joe. 

"  Well,"  she  began  reluctantly,  "  it  always  seems 
to  me  that  the  animals  we  own  ought  to  look  up  to 
us,  somewhat  as  we  look  up  to  God.  If  it  is  so, 
we  must  love  them  just  as  we  love  people,  must  we 
not?" 

"  Nobody  ever  tried  loving  a  bronco,"  said  Joe. 
"  Why  not  try  your  experiment  on  Nero  ? " 

"  Oh,  Joe,  you  do  not  understand.  I  mean  that 
everything  that  has  life  has  rights.  Don't  animals 
have  souls  ? " 

"  Yes,  some  of  them ;  very  bad  souls,  take,  for 
instance,  coyotes,  they  steal  and  fight.  Is  it  not 
bad." 

"  Oh,  Joe,  you  don't  understand,"  said  Helen 
smiling,  but  still  insisting  upon  leading  Mandy  to 
the  barn. 

As  she  went  down  the  path  she  saw  a  little  tuft 
of  grass  growing  near  a  hydrant.  She  plucked  it, 
and,  offering  it  to  Mandy,  said: 

"  I  don't  believe  you  are  stubborn.  When  you 
balk  it's  because  somebody  does  things.  Ain't  it  ?  " 

At  the  barn  she  filled  the  manger  with  hay,  gather- 
ing from  one  corner  a  nest-full  of  eggs  that  had  been 
stealthily  hidden  away  by  an  anxious  hen.  As  she 
started  back  to  the  house,  she  chanced  to  look  to- 
ward the  orchard  and  was  surprised  to  see  a  little 
girl  walking  aimlessly  near  the  old  shack  where 
Joe  slept.  It  was  not  usual  to  see  a  strange  child 


HELEN  13 

so  far  in  the  country  and  Helen's  first  thought  was 
to  go  and  question  her ;  but  at  that  moment  she  saw 
coming  from  the  veranda  a  Mexican,  who  seemed 
intoxicated.  When  he  met  Helen  he  pointed  to 
his  mouth  and  muttered  some  words  incoherently. 
"  Come  with  me  to  the  kitchen,"  said  Helen. 
The  Mexican  shook  his  head,  but  pointed  to  the 
eggs,  at  the  same  time  taking  a  soiled  cotton  handker- 
chief from  his  pocket  and  spreading  it  on  the  ground. 
Helen  did  not  question  him,  but  put  the  eggs  in 
the  handkerchief,  saying :  "  I  will  give  you  food 
if  you  will  come  with  me." 

The  Mexican  made  no  answer,  but  gathered  the 
four  corners  of  the  handkerchief  into  a  knot  and 
went  toward  the  orchard,  calling  as  he  did  so: 
"  Luisa !  Luisa !  " 

The  little  girl  waited  and  Helen  saw  the  man 
seize  her  ruthlessly  by  the  hand  and  drag  her  into 
the   chaparral.     She   called   Joe   and  together  they 
followed   the  pair  until   within   speaking   distance. 
When  the  Indian  said  authoritively : 
"  Whose  child  be  you  drag  along  ?  " 
"  Mine  seester's  chile.     She  bees  giff  to  me." 
"  Where   is   your   sister  ? "    asked   Helen   gently. 
"  Perhaps  I  can  ride  over  and  see  her.     I  have  a 
horse  of  my  own." 

"  She  leefs  in  Los  Angeles.  She  bees  seek." 
Helen  requested  the  Mexican  to  let  her  take  the 
child  back  to  the  house  but  he  pointed  with  a  long 
stick  that  he  carried  toward  a  sheep  camp  high  up 
on  the  mesa  and  the  child  tremblingly  took  the  path. 
Helen  and  Joe  watched  them  for  a  time  and  then 


14  HELEN 

returned  to  their  work,  but  the  episode  made  a 
great  impression  on  the  young  woman's  mind.  She 
could  not  forget  the  nervous  and  timid  face  or  the 
thin  little  hand  of  the  child.  She  could  hear  the 
name  "  Luisa  "  ring  in  her  ears  and  somehow  con- 
nect itself  with  the  psychic  strain  that  had  hung 
like  a  dark  shadow  over  all  the  events  of  the 
morning. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEN  Andrews  came  in  to  dinner  he  found  the 
house  in  order,  while  the  smell  of  bacon  and  coffee 
gave  him  the  appetite  he  had  lacked  for  his  break- 
fast. He  joked  Helen  a  little  about  her  pony,  say- 
ing :  "  You  have  the  only  herding  horse  on  the 
river  that  never  lets  a  steer  get  away.  I  should 
like  to  hire  you  to  help  comb  the  country  at  the 
next  round  up." 

"  Yes,"  Helen  returned,  "  I  really  believe  I  could 
ride  all  day." 

"  Well,  I  shall  count  on  you  when  I  need  help." 

"  Do  you  know  the  tricks  of  a  rope  ?  "  Joe  teased. 
"  Can  you  tell  how  old  a  hoof -print  is  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  a  little  about  such  things." 

Finally  the  Indian  said  in  all  seriousness :  "  You 
must  have  a  Navajo  saddle.  I  shall  get  you  one. 
It's  not  so  high  of  pommel,  and  lets  you  mount  on 
either  side  —  Indianwise." 

"  It's  the  very  thing  I  should  like !  How  kind 
of  you  to  think  of  it,  dear  old  Joe,"  Helen  answered. 
As  they  chatted  around  the  table,  they  were  joined 
by  a  herder  who  had  been  for  days  out  on  the 
range,  looking  for  lost  cattle. 

"  Where  were  you  this  morning  about  eight 
o'clock  ? "  Helen  asked  as  soon  as  she  saw  him. 

"  I  camped  by  a  water-hole  near  Oro  Grande  last 
night.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

15 


16  HELEN 

"  I  took  a  ride  on  Mandy  this  morning,  and  as  I 
stood  on  a  high  point  near  Arrow  Head  I  saw  the 
smoke  from  a  campfire,"  replied  Helen. 

"  Did  you  see  who  was  there  ? "  queried  the 
herder. 

"  I  watched  the  smoke  for  a  time  and  then  saw 
a  man  climb  a  steep  hill  and  ride  off  alone." 

"  Did  you  have  company  ?  "  asked  Andrews. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  herder.  "  A  tenderfoot  spread 
his  blanket  beside  mine  last  night." 

"  Who's  he  working  for  ?  "  inquired  Andrews. 

"  He  ain't  working.  He  never  could  work  at  the 
cattle  business.  The  meekest  bronco  on  the  range 
would  buck  him  off,  but  he  ain't  to  blame.  He's 
Eastern." 

"  Did  he  say  where  he  was  from  ?  "  queried  An- 
drews. 

"  Yes,  all  the  way  from  Kansas.  His  name  is 
Burlingham,  and  he's  got  a  family  camped  some- 
where in  the  river  bottom." 

"  What's  he  doing  out  there  alone  ?  "  said  Helen, 
expressing  interest. 

"  Oh,  he's  got  some  idea  about  a  mine.  It's  lucky 
the  greasers  ain't  no  shots  or  they'd  a-downed  him 
long  ago.  He'd  stampede  the  best  behaved  bunch 
of  cattle  on  the  range.  His  pack  mule  looked  as 
though  it  was  born  before  the  flood.  When  I  left, 
he  was  trying  to  fix  the  saddle  on,  so's  not  to  tear 
the  hide  all  off  the  mule's  back." 

"  And  you  did  not  help  him  ? "  queried  Helen. 

"  No,  I  had  something  else  to  do.  I  found  a 
small  bunch  of  cattle  in  an  arroyo  and  started 


H  E  L  E  N  17 

them   toward   a   canon   where   the   feed   is   better." 

"  How  were  they  branded  ?  "  asked  Andrews. 

"  Some  had  the  *  diamond  O '  and  some  were 
yours." 

Then  the  herder  talked  learnedly  of  fileria  and 
bunch  grass  and  informed  Andrews  that  the  burr 
clover  had  nearly  all  been  picked  up  by  the  sheep, 
—  that  what  had  not  been  eaten,  they  had  carried 
off  in  their  wool.  Then,  with  a  prophetic  air,  he 
added : 

"  Some  of  the  cattle  have  already  left  the  mesa 
and  are  browsing  on  the  willows,  and  the  coyotes  are 
hanging  around  the  sheep  camps.  That's  always  a 
sign  of  a  dry  season." 

His  words  brought  back  the  anxious  lines  to  An- 
drews' face,  and  he  began  to  speculate  as  to  how 
he  should  get  his  stock  through,  if  no  rain  came, 
and  to  recount  past  experiences  when  many  cattle 
had  died  from  starvation. 

"  I  think,"  he  remarked,  "  that  I  had  better  dry- 
plow  the  forty-acre  lot  and  sow  it  in  barley.  If  it 
rains  ever  so  little,  it  will  make  feed ;  if  not,  I  shall 
lose  only  a  few  sacks  of  grain." 

"  Yes,  that's  a  good  plan,"  the  herder  agreed,  and 
added :  "  It  is  always  too  dry  or  too  wet  out  here. 
One  year  it's  a  drought,  and  the  next  a  flood!  I 
like  it  better  down  in  Texas.  There,  barring  the 
grasshoppers  and  the  cyclones,  we  'most  always  have 
a  crop." 

"  I  know  about  Texas,"  Andrews  replied,  "  and 
I'll  take  my  chances  in  California  every  time." 

"  Do  you  remember  seven  years  ago  on  the  Santa 


18  HELEN 

Maria  ranch,  when  they  lost  nearly  ten  thousand 
head  of  stock  ?  "  inquired  the  herder.  "  The  cattle 
and  the  sheep  nearly  all  turned  up  their  toes  that 
year." 

"  It's  too  dreadful  to  think  about !  "  Helen  ex- 
claimed, and  then,  turning  to  her  father,  she  began 
to  question  him  as  to  their  own  facilities  for  saving 
their  stock  in  case  the  drought  should  continue. 

"  You  haven't  begun  using  the  straw  yet,  have 
you?" 

"  No,"  her  father  answered  with  a  smile  at  her 
concern.  "  We  have  three  stacks  not  yet  touched. 
It's  poor  feed,  but  cattle  can  pull  through  on  it.  I 
would  feel  safer,  though  if  we  had  more  bottom  land. 
Willows  are  good  to  have  in  a  dry  year." 

The  herder,  seeing  that  he  had  destroyed  the  cheer 
of  the  household  with  his  gloomy  predictions, 
hastened  to  add  more  hopefully : 

"  Oh,  it's  no  use  to  worry  yet.  I  don't  suppose 
there's  any  immediate  danger.  It's  only  November. 
I've  seen  the  rains  hold  off  until  Christmas  and  then 
have  a  good  year." 

Andrews  denied  that  he  was  "  worrying,"  but  said 
that  he  would  like  to  see  it  rain,  and  then,  with 
deference  to  the  opinion  of  a  native  Calif ornian, 
he  asked  whether  Don  Alvarado  had  yet  moved  any 
of  his  stock. 

"  I  haven't  been  over  that  way,"  replied  the 
herder.  "  I  was  going  to  take  Mandy  this  after- 
noon and  do  a  little  prospecting;  but  Joe  tells  me 
that  you  have  sold  her." 

"  Yes,"  Andrews  said,  "  she  has  gone  out  of  my 


HELEH  19 

possession.  But  there  are  horses  enough  on  the 
ranch  —  take  any  other  one  you  like." 

"  But  I  like  Mandy  Jones !  " 

To  this  broad  hint,  Helen  paid  no  heed. 

"  She's  afraid  you'll  drive  her  too  hard,"  said 
old  Joe.  "  Being  so  tender-hearted  is  like  her 
mother." 

"  Yes,"  and  Andrews  sighed  heavily,  "  that  was 
like  mother,  wasn't  it?  I  wonder  if  a  man  ever 
gets  over  the  loss  of  a  wife  ? " 

Here  Helen  tried  to  divert  her  father's  attention 
by  pouring  him  out  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  by  telling 
her  experiences  of  the  morning. 

"  There  was  such  a  beautiful  haze  -hanging  over 
the  mountains,"  she  said,  "  I  rode  right  out  into 
it ;  but  it  was  hot  —  oh,  so  hot  —  and  everything 
a-quiver. 

"  The  yuccas  are  such  weird,  uncanny  things," 
she  went  on,  "  they  always  seem  to  be  pointing  with 
their  great  shaggy  arms  to  some  far-away  place  — 
they  make  one  feel  as  though  they  really  meant 
something !  " 

"  It's  the  rarified  air,"  the  herder  explained. 
"  We  fellows  who  live  on  the  range  don't  see  visions 
out  in  the  open.  If  a  blackbird  looks  as  big  as  an 
elephant,  we  know  that  the  air  is  dry  and  the  mirage 
is  at  work.  A  cool  breeze  blows  it  all  away.  I 
saw  a  coyote's  head,  the  other  day,  that  looked  as  if 
it  were  just  above  water.  I  could  have  sworn  that 
he  was  swimming.  Then  a  draught  came  through 
the  Cajon  Pass  and  puffed  the  whole  thing  out." 

"  That's  what  I  used  to  tell  mother,"   said  An- 


20 

drews.  "  She  was  always  seeing  things.  She  never 
got  used  to  the  dry  seasons,  but  when  you  have 
camped  out  awhile  you  learn  the  tricks  that  the 
air  plays.  Mandy  knows  —  she  never  shies  at  a 
mirage." 

"  I  know,"  said  Helen,  "  but  everything  has 
seemed  queer  to-day.  When  I  got  home  from  my 
ride  I  saw  a  little  girl  in  the  orchard  and  she 
looked  frightened.  I  wanted  her  to  come  with  me 
into  the  house  but  the  man  who  was  with  her  would 
not  permit  her." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  herder  "  that  was  the  greaser  up 
on  the  mesa.  His  sister  is  sick  and  he  took  the 
young  one." 


CHAPTER  IV 

Two  months  had  slipped  away  feince  William 
Andrews  gave  Mandy  Jones  to  his  daughter,  and 
she  had  ridden  the  little  bronco  into  every  nook  and 
corner  of  the  surrounding  country.  Not  often  had 
she  gone  over  to  Don  Alvardo's  to  see  the  girls ;  not 
often  had  she  visited  the  neighbors  down  the  river; 
but  where  the  sand  drove  up  in  waves  before  the 
wind  and  where  the  rainbow-tinted  lizard  darted 
from  bush  to  bush,  she  had  ridden  with  love  of 
nature  in  her  heart  and  a  desire  to  know  the  mean- 
ing of  gigantic  space  and  rolling  leagues  of  fierce, 
pure  air.  Religion  seemed  to  her  something  that 
grew  on  the  desert  —  something  with  color  and  the 
odor  of  sage  about  it.  The  burning  heaps  of  purple 
rock  and  the  towering  mountain  peaks  also  seemed 
to  her  a  part  of  its  vast  scheme. 

"  Can  anyone  paint  the  color  and  the  stateliness 
of  the  landscape  during  the  arid  season?"  Helen. 
asked  her  father  one  day,  as  they  sat  looking  off  at 
San  Antonio. 

"  Try  it,"  said  he.  "  Art  may  be  your  vocation. 
As  for  me,  I  pray  hourly  for  rain.  When  rose  and 
violet  cover  the  gaunt  wolf  of  hunger  and  despair, 
I  fail  to  see  its  beauty." 

"  Forgive  me,  Father,  I  know  I  see  only  what 
21 


22  HELEN 

is  pleasing  to  the  eye,  while  a  more  practical  mind 
sees  the  reality." 

"  I  am  not  blaming  you,  daughter.  At  your  age, 
I,  too,  had  visions.  And  I  followed  them.  You 
have  just  as  much  right  to  yours  as  I  had  to  mine." 

"  Oh  father,  dear,  tell  me  a  little  about  yourself 
when  you  were  at  my  age." 

"  About  myself  ?  Well  one  thing  is  sure.  I  was 
not  an  artist.  If  you  have  any  genius  for  art  or 
music  you  must  give  the  credit  to  your  mother. 
She  reveled  in  color,  and  she  sang  divinely." 

"  But  tell  me,  father,  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  Liberty  was  the  divinity  I  sought  for. 
And  it  was  in  pursuit  of  her  that  I  came  West. 
My  father  had  been  a  colonel  in  the  United  States 
army  but  as  he  was  killed  in  a  skirmish  with  In- 
dians soon  after  I  was  born,  my  mother  naturally 
looked  upon  shoulder  straps  and  buttons  with  dread. 
So  she  put  me  to  the  study  of  law  under  the  pro- 
tection of  her  father  who  was  a  dignified  and  con- 
servative man  that  regarded  the  profession  as  the 
only  one  suited  to  a  Southern  gentleman.  I  think 
at  times  both  my  grandfather  and  my  mother  saw 
shadows  in  my  face  to  make  them  doubt  whether 
I  could  be  held  down  to  the  routine  of  office  work, 
but  they  held  on  to  their  purpose  and  I  waded  through 
the  first  year  of  my  course.  Then  my  grandfather 
died.  After  a  short  period  of  mourning  I  went 
back  to  college  but  death  came  again  within  six 
months  and  my  mother  followed  her  father  to  the 
grave.  I  then  lacked  only  a  year  and  a  half  of 
completing  my  law  course,  but  as  I  thought  it  over, 


HELEN  23 

I  realized  that  I  had  pursued  it  —  more  to  please 
my  friends  than  to  please  myself.  Having  arrived 
at  this  conclusion  I  saw  no  reason  for  going  on. 
Complaints  and  cross  complaints,  torts,  prosecutions, 
the  civil  code  and  the  penal  code,  all  seemed  to 
me  as  so  much  superfluous  knowledge,  and  one  day, 
in  a  revolt  against  the  whole  of  civilization  I  turned 
my  thoughts  toward  the  then  unknown  West.  Al- 
though it  was  there  that  my  father  had  been  killed, 
a  fantastic  specter  beckoned  me  to  come.  The  great 
Santa  Fe  trail  forty  miles  wide  by  seven  hundred 
long  had  a  charm  for  me.  Its  very  hugeness  made 
me  wonder  who  traversed  such  a  vast  highway,  and 
whether  the  coyote  myths  of  the  Indians  might  not 
be  as  real  as  those  of  the  Christian.  I  saw  visions 
of  the  ratlesnake  and  the  noosed  rope  and  won- 
dered if  they  were  the  equivalent  of  the  lion  and 
the  unicorn.  These  things  haunted  me  day  and 
night  until  finally  I  left  the  scenes  of  my  childhood 
to  follow  the  strenuous  life  of  the  range." 

"  But  what  will  I  do,  father  ?  I  cannot  go  West 
as  you  did.  I  cannot  do  anything  to  make  money, 
for  I  hate  the  sordid  stuff." 

"  Begin  with  a  box  of  paints,"  smiled  Andrews, 
"  and,  when  the  time  comes,  drift  naturally  to  your 
place." 

"  What  a  lovely  idea !  To-morrow  I  shall  try 
to  mix  the  color  of  the  mountains  and  the  sand." 

For  many  days  Helen  sketched  and  painted. 
The  gray-green  of  the  desert  plants,  the  evanescent 
color  of  the  sky;  the  outline  of  San  Antonio,  all 
came  in  daubs  upon  her  canvas.  But  just  as  she 


24  HELEN 

began  to  understand  a  little  of  the  possibilities  of 
her  brush,  a  great  change  came  over  the  country. 

Dark  clouds  dragged  and  dripped  across  the  hills, 
and  gloom  settled  in  the  canons.  The  sand  lost  its 
luster;  the  horizon  line  was  low,  and  all  about  the 
sky  was  swiftly  moving  cumuli. 

"  Let  us  sing  the  Jubilate,"  cried  Andrews. 
"  The  rain  is  coming !  " 

"  '  Oh,  be  joyful,'  "  commenced  Helen,  but  paused : 
"  The  color  has  all  gone  out  of  the  landscape  father. 
I  do  not  want  it  to  rain." 

Andrews  laughed  outright 

"  Prayers  for  rain  then  should  be  reserved  for 
those  who  need  rain."  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  con- 
tinued :  "  Paint  the  three  trees.  That  will  please 
old  Joe." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  "  how  fond  he  is  of  them. 
I  believe  he  notices  every  new  shoot  they  put  forth." 

"  What  testimony  to  the  home-loving  nature  of 
man,"  said  the  father.  "  Because  he  was  born  be- 
neath their  wide-spreading  branches,  and  because 
there  his  mother  died  and  there  his  sister  was  mar- 
ried, he  reverences  the  place  and  claims  it  for,  his 
own,  and  who  shall  say  that  his  title  is  not  as  good 
as  mine." 

"  And  Padre  Tomas  claims  them,  too  father." 

"Yes,  because  the  arm  of  one  has  grown  hori- 
zontally across  the  upright  trunk  of  another,  thus 
forming  a  perfect  cross.  The  priests  have  always 
claimed  and  regarded  them  with  something  of  super- 
stitious awe." 

"  Now  if  I  claim  them  in  the  name  of  art  ? " 


HELEN  25 

"  W,e  shall  have  a  case  of  adverse  claimants, 
minus  the  adversary,"  concluded  the  father. 

"  How  lovely !  "  cried  Helen.  "  Each  abstracting 
what  he  needs,  and  leaving  the  residue  for  his 
brothers;  that  is  true  religion.  But  is  there  any 
law  for  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  divine  law,  but  not  yet  reduced  to  a  statute. 
In  this  case,  however,  Joe's  title  holds  better  than 
mine,  for  I  should  have  cut  the  trees  down  long 
ago  had  he  not  been  so  fond  of  them." 

For  weeks  the  rain  continued  to  fall  in  silvery 
drops  upon  Andrews'  parched  fields.  Helen  soon 
saw  that  the  springing  grass,  the  crystal  pools  and 
the  prodigality  of  bloom  were  worthy  her  brush 
and  lay  a  new  color  scheme  upon  her  pallette.  So 
well  did  she  succeed  that  her  father  pulled  her  head 
down  on  his  shoulder  one  day  and  said: 

"  I  think  you  should  be  sent  away  to  study.  Your 
love  of  nature  may  make  an  artist  or  a  poet  of  you 
some  day." 

"  If  I  could  learn  art  and  use  it  for  the  relief 
of  suffering  I  might  try,  but  there  are  so  many 
tragedies  in  the  world  that  I  begin  to  see  a  great 
many  things  to  do,  besides  paint,"  said  Helen  doubt- 
fully. 

"  You  must  not  worry  over  tragedies.  They  will 
go  on,  no  matter  how  you  try  to  prevent  them." 

"  But  sometimes  a  feeling  comes  over  me  that  all 
the  world  is  bent  on  harm.  Did  mother  worry  over 
peoples'  sorrows  ? " 

"  Yes,  she  often  did,  but  she  was  very  practical. 


2tf  HELEN 

Her  aim  was  to  allay  the  misery  at  Her  own  door 
and  be  content." 

"Tell  me  what  she  did,  father." 

"  She  adopted  old  Joe,  for  one  thing.  We  found 
him  under  the  tree  with  a  broken  leg,  his  tribe  gone 
on,  and  he  as  wild  as  any  animal." 

"  Oh,  poor  old  Joe !  No  wonder  he  loves  her 
memory." 

As  they  sat  talking,  a  young  Spaniard  drove  up 
to  the  gate  and  alighted.  His  sombrero  was  drip- 
ping, and  his  clothing  wet  through  and  through. 
Notwithstanding  his  discomfort,  he  walked  with 
dignity  and  addressed  Andrews  as  Senor  and  Helen 
as  Senorita,  then  said :  "  My  father  has  sent  me  to 
ride  along  the  zanja  and  see  that  the  head  gates  are 
all  closed." 

"  Really,"  exclaimed  Andrews,  "  does  your  father 
think  that  the  storm  is  becoming  dangerous  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  if  the  river  should  turn  into  an 
irrigating  ditch,  it  might  make  trouble,"  answered 
the  Spaniard. 

"  So  it  might,  so  it  might,"  returned  Andrews. 
"  Please  give  your  father  my  best  wishes,  and  say 
that  I  appreciate  his  kindness." 

The  Spaniard  bowed,  and,  mounting  his  shivering 
horse,  rode  away,  keeping  close  to  the  irrigating 
ditch  until  he  was  out  of  sight. 

"  How  kind  of  Don  Alvarado  to  send  his  son  out 
in  the  storm,"  said  Helen.  "  But  tell  me,  father, 
do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  ? " 

"  It  has  been  raining  for  a  month,"  he  replied, 


HELEN  27 

"and  the  ground  is  so  saturated  with"  water  now 
that  it  won't  hold  much  more." 

"  And  we  can  do  nothing  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"No.     Nothing  can  stand  against  the  weather." 

As  he  spoke,  they  could  hear  the  roaring  of  the 
river,  as  great  pieces  of  the  bank  were  chewed  off 
and  cast  into  the  water  to  be  carried  down  stream 
and  deposited  wheresoever  the  tide  willed. 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  the  gloom  increased ;  great 
leaden  clouds  drifted  up  against  the  wall  of  high 
Sierras,  and  the  rain  fell  in  sheets.  All  night  An- 
drews lay  awake,  listening  to  the  downpour  upon 
the  roof,  and  in  the  morning,  as  soon  as  he  could  see, 
arose  and,  with  a  suspicion  born  of  fear,  peered 
long  and  anxiously  toward  the  lower  levels  of  his 
ranch.  In  one  of  the  fields,  which  was  fenced  with 
barbed  wire,  were  his  thoroughbred  cows.  For  their 
safety  he  now  began  to  feel  anxious.  He  did  not 
wait  for  breakfast,  but  pulled  on  a  pair  of  rubber- 
boots  and  said  to  his  daughter : 

"  I  must  take  a  look  at  the  river ;  if  the  bridge 
should  go  out,  or  the  bank  give  way,  there  would  be 
rough  work  before  another  night." 

He  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  he  met  a 
couple  of  his  neighbors,  carrying  shovels  upon  their 
shoulders. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Andrews,  "  and  not  so 
'  good  '  either.  It  looks  rather  dubious.  Have  you 
been  up  the  stream  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  John  Stanford.  "  Yes,  and  the 
bank  is  in  bad  shape.  We  must  fix  it.  If  the 


28  HELEN 

water  once  breaks  over  —  nobody  can  tell  where  it 
will  go." 

"  It  ought  to  have  been  fixed  long  ago,"  grumbled 
his  companion.  "  Now,  T  suppose  we  are  elected  to 
work  in  the  rain  all  day.  Have  you  any  barbed 
wire  at  your  place,  Andrews  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  to  the  barn  and  get  it." 

"  Better  bring  an  ax  too,"  suggested  young  Stan- 
ford, "  we  must  cut  some  willow  poles  and  run  a 
fence  along  the  low  places.  Isn't  that  the  best  thing 
to  do,  '  Doc.'  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other  man.  "  I've  lived  on 
this  river  for  twenty-five  years,  and  I  don't  know  of 
anything  better  to  hold  water  than  a  barbed-wire 
fence.  The  barbs  catch  weeds  and  trash  enough  to 
check  the  current,  and  then  the  sand  drops.  You 
can  bank  up  more  sand  that  way  in  one  night  than 
all  the  horses  in  the  country  could  haul  in  a  month." 

When  Andrews  returned  he  bore  upon  his  shoul- 
ders a  coil  of  barbed  wire,  and,  following  close  upon 
his  heels,  was  Sing  Hi. 

Although  Sing  Hi  was  first  of  all  a  cook,  he  could 
in  an  emergency  turn  his  hand  to  almost  any  kind 
of  work. 

"  Alle  samee  China,"  said  he  "  too  much  lain  no 
good."  Then  feeling  in  his  hair  where  he  had  con- 
cealed a  charm  that  had  for  three  thousand  years 
caused  the  waters  to  abate  in  his  own  Cathay, 
he  fell  to  work  with  the  stolid  indifference  of  his 
race. 

The  little  party  followed  the  bank,  stopping 
every  now  and  then  to  drive  saplings  and  stretch 


HELEN  29 

wire,  until  a  solid  fall  of  water  compelled  them  to 
take  refuge  under  the  bridge. 

"  We  may  as  well  go  to  the  house,"  Andrews  said. 
"  We  can  do  nothing  while  it  pours  down  like  this." 

They  gathered  up  their  tools  and  fell  into  line 
like  men  accustomed  to  follow  the  trial.  Andrews 
led  the  way,  then  came  "  Doc."  Stoner,  whose  title 
represented  much  knowledge  of  sick  and  lame  horses. 
Lagging  in  the  rear  were  ISTero  and  Maria  —  the 
latter  an  old  sheep  dog,  that  had  once  been  valued 
at  a  thousand  dollars,  but  now  was  of  no  value  at 
all,  owing  to  old  age  and  a  crippled  foot,  occasioned 
by  a  rattlesnake  bite.  Old  and  lame  though  she 
was,  she  and  Nero  had  had  their  fill  of  pleasure,  since 
the  rain  had  driven  out  of  their  holes  all  manner  of 
small  animals,  more  or  less  disabled  —  more  or  less 
willing  to  be  shaken. 

Helen,  who  had  been  watching  anxiously,  saw 
her  father  leading  the  party  of  men  and  dogs  to- 
ward the  house  and  knew  that  nothing  must  stand 
in  the  way  of  dinner.  She  had  been  wrestling  all 
morning  with  a  churning  that  frothed  and  sputtered ; 
but  now  she  wheeled  the  churn  aside  and  hurried  for 
an  armful  of  wood. 

When  the  men  entered,  she  made  no  pretense  of 
ceremony,  but  kept  on  with  preparations  for  the 
meal.  The  Chinaman  offered  to  assist  her,  and  she 
gave  him  a  pan  of  apples  to  pare.  Then  John  Stan- 
ford, taking  the  cue,  wheeled  the  churn  out  and  be- 
gan turning  the  crank. 

"It's  kind  of  you  to  churn,"  said  Helen.  "  It's 
a  horrid,  headachy  job." 


30  HELEN 

"  I  don't  claim  to  know  much  about  it,"  he  re- 
sponded ;  "  mother  used  to  say  that  it  was  only 
elbow  grease  I  used.  Just  the  whys  and  wherefores 
of  bringing  the  butter  I  don't  pretend  to  under- 
stand." 

Here  "  Doc."  Stoner  changed  the  subject. 

"  There  won't  be  many  gophers  left  if  it  keeps  on 
raining  like  this." 

"  No.  The  alfalfa  was  pretty  well  peppered  up 
with  them,  but  I  reckon  this  will  fix  'em,"  returned 
young  Stanford. 

"  But  can  you  never  imagine  what  it  is  to  feel 
sorry  for  the  poor  things  ?  "  demanded  Helen.  "  All 
the  poor  little  people  that  live  in  holes  are  trapped 
and  shot  or  drowned.  Somehow,  I  can  never  get 
used  to  it.  Father  says  I'm  not  suited  to  the  ranch. 
He  wants  me  to  go  away  and  study  something." 

"Study  what?"  asked  John  Stanford. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  Perhaps  I  could  learn  to 
paint.  Have  you  noticed  how  different  the  clouds 
are  now  from  what  they  were  in  the  summer  ?  But 
when  I  paint  them,  they  all  look  alike.  Did  you 
ever  try  to  paint,  Mr.  Stanford  ? " 

The  young  man  laughed.  "  Only  once,"  he  said, 
"  and  then  mother  said  I  made  a  poor  job  of  it." 

"  Dear  me !  Tell  us  about  it.  I  often  wonder  if 
other  people  try  to  do  the  same  things  I  do." 

"  Why,  you  must  have  seen  it.  It  was  our 
barn!" 

Helen  laughed  at  the  tiny  joke,  and  looked 
squarely  into  the  eyes  of  her  visitor.  It  took  no 
great  knowledge  of  human  nature  to  see  that  he  was 


HELEN  31 

inoffensive  and  kind.  His  head  was  long  and  nar- 
row. His  thick,  bushy  hair  was  light  yellow  and 
straggled  down  over  a  pair  of  honest,  blue  eyes,  in 
which  lurked  a  "  John  the  Baptist "  expression.  He 
pointed  to  his  mother,  as  the  one  greater  than  him- 
self, and  rejoiced  that  she  had  impressed  upon  his 
young  mind  a  sort  of  righteous  anger  against  sinners. 

While  they  talked,  Helen's  nimble  fingers  had 
peeled  potatoes,  taken  a  side  of  bacon  from  its  nail 
on  the  wall  and  sliced  enough  to  cover  the  bottom  of 
the  frying-pan. 

"  Break  a  dozen  eggs  into  the  bacon  gravy,"  sug- 
gested her  father.  "  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 

The  eggs  were  fried,  the  apples  stewed,  and  within 
half  an  hour  a  shuffling  of  feet  under  the  table 
indicated  that  the  hungry  men  were  putting  Helen's 
cooking  to  the  test.  The  conversation  was  friendly 
and  strikingly  free  from  that  kind  of  vulgarity 
which  assumes  too  much.  There  was  not  the  slight- 
est attempt  to  manifest  a  feeling  of  caste  even  the 
Chinaman  sitting  down  and  eating  with  the  others. 

After  dinner,  they  all  went  out  upon  the  veranda 
to  take  a  look  at  the  sky.  Although  it  was  not  yet 
two  o'clock,  the  West  was  darkening  as  with  signs 
of  night. 

"Heavens!  how  it  rains,"  ejaculated  Andrews. 
"  I  believe  it  would  be  wise  to  get  those  cattle  out 
of  the  lower  field.  What  do  you  think,  Doc.  ?  " 

"  If  the  river  should  break  over,  there  wouldn't 
be  enough  of  them  left  to  pay  for  rounding  up," 
replied  that  individual. 

"  Yes,"  added  Stanford,  "  these  fenced  fields  are 


32  HELEN 

regular  deatK-traps  in  a  time  lite  this.  Give  me 
the  old  Spanish  style  where  a  man's  land  went 
from  mountain  to  mountain  and  the  cattle  took 
care  of  themselves." 

As  the  storm  drove  on,  every  rift  of  the  clouds 
was  torn  by  falling  sheets  of  water.  The  threat- 
ening blackness  overhead  and  the  sullen  roar  of  the 
river  convinced  Andrews  that  he  ought  to  liberate 
the  cattle  in  the  fenced  field  at  once. 

Peering  through  the  gloom,  he  could  make  out 
that  the  imperiled  animals  had  gathered  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  field  and  were  standing,  shivering 
and  frightened,  against  the  fence. 

"  I  shan't  wait  another  minute,"  he  said,  and 
started,  with  his  two  companions,  to  the  barn. 

Mandy  Jones  chanced  to  be  the  only  horse  in 
the  stable,  and  she  was  hastily  bridled  and  sad- 
dled, and  the  tools  for  cutting  the  wire  fence  were 
tied  together  and  slung  across  the  pommel.  As 
Andrews  tightened  the  cinch,  Mandy  looked  back, 
showing  the  white  of  her  eyes. 

"  It's  a  balky  sign,"  said  "  Doc."  Stoner,  and 
with  the  shrewdness  that  comes  of  much  acquaint- 
ance with  balky  horses,  he  patted  Mandy  affection- 
ately on  the  nose. 

"  It  never  does  a  horse  any  good  to  be  driven 
by  a  woman,"  said  John  Stanford. 

Andrews,  however,  paid  no  attention  to  their  re- 
marks but  swung  confidently  into  the  saddle.  The 
mare  again  looked  back  and  her  legs  stiffened. 

"  Helen  has  spoiled  her,"  cried  he  in  exaspera- 
tion. "  She  was  the  best  little  saddle-horse  on  the 


HELEN  33 

place,  but  now  she  has  had  her  own  way  too 
long." 

He  used  a  rawhide  whip  freely,  but  Mandy  would 
not  move  a  step.  Then  "  Doe."  Stoner  took  a  wisp 
of  hay  and  drew  a  match.  He  had  lighted  it  and 
was  about  to  place  it  underneath  the  belly  of  the 
mare,  when  Helen,  with  no  wrap,  except  a  light 
jacket,  came  into  the  barn,  and  seeing  what  they  were 
doing,  cried  put  wrathfully: 

"  You  shall  not  do  it !  No  one  shall  torture  her ! 
She  will  go  for  me —  I  will  ride  her  myself." 

Andrews  had  never  seen  his  daughter  so  angry. 
Her  eyes  flashed,  and  her  face  was  white  with  rage. 
She  took  the  bridle  into  her  hand  and  turned  the 
horse's  head  a  little  to  the  left,  when  she  saw  the 
Spanish  bit. 

"That  cruel  .thing!"  she  stormed.  "Take  it 
off!  I  will  not  use  it." 

Young  Stanford  hastened  to  soothe  her  by  remov- 
ing the  obnoxious  bit  and  patting  Mandy  on  the 
forehead.  Helen,  with  great  determination,  exam- 
ined the  pony's  mouth  to  see  whether  it  had  been 
cut  by  the  bit  and  then  requested  her  father  to 
leave  the  business  to  her.  Andrews  protested  and 
tried  to  soothe  the  girl,  but  finally  alighted,  say- 
ing as  he  did  so: 

"  It  is  not  a  woman's  place  to  go  out  in  such  a 
storm." 

Helen,  however,  paid  no  attention  to  his  words, 
but  throwing  her  arm  over  Mandy's  neck,  she  began 
talking  to  her  much  as  a  schoolboy  might  talk  to 
his  sweetheart. 


34  HELEN 

"Poor  dumb  creature,  I  am  glad  you  did  balk," 
she  said.  "  You'll  go  for  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

With  this,  she  stepped  upon  a  box  that  chanced 
to  be  near,  and,  without  assistance  from  anyone, 
sprang  lightly  into  the  saddle.  Her  nerves  were 
steady  and  her  brain  was  quick,  -as  she  said : 

"  Now  go  on,  Mandy,  it's  getting  worse  every 
minute." 

The  pony  started  obediently  and  turned  toward 
the  field.  Once  she  stumbled  into  a  gopher  hole 
and  floundered  like  a  porpoise,  but  soon  righted  her- 
self and  went  bravely  forward. 

It  was  the  work  of  but  a  few  minutes  to  cut  the 
wire  and  liberate  the  cattle.  As  soon  as  the  fence 
was  down,  they  wallowed  their  way  to  higher 
ground,  the  strong  and  courageous  going  first,  the 
yearlings  following  after  them.  Helen  cast  her 
eyes  over  the  bunch,  as  they  passed  her,  and  saw 
that  one  of  her  father's  favorite  Jerseys  was  not 
among  them.  She  watched  anxiously,  hoping  to 
see  it  bringing  up  the  rear;  but  it  was  nowhere  in 
sight. 

The  water  was  steadily  rising,  and  the  wind 
roared  down  from  the  mountain ;  but  the  girl  urged 
her  horse  into  the  inundated  pasture.  For  an  hour 
they  worked  their  way  from  one  knoll  to  another 
until  Helen  had  almost  decided  that  it  was  useless 
to  search  farther,  when  Mandy,  with  the  true  in- 
stinct of  the  herding  horse,  pushed  her  way  into  a 
clump  of  willows,  and  there  found  the  cow,  drooling 
over  a  new-born  calf.  The  shivering  body  of  the 
tender  little  creature  was  bedraggled  with  mud,  and 


HELEN  35 

the  wind  whistled  into  its  unaccustomed  nostrils, 
almost  taking  its  breath  away. 

Just  then  an  unusually  heavy  gust  beat  the  tiny 
thing  to  the  ground  and  the  mother  whimpered  over 
it  like  an  anxious  hound.  Helen,  for  the  moment, 
was  undecided  what  to  do;  but,  while  she  hesitated, 
the  calf  —  with  the  persistency  of  a  new-born  thing, 
wobbled  to  its  feet  and  stared,  wonder-eyed,  at  the 
bedlam  into  which  it  had  been  born. 

Helen  drove  her  heel  into  Mandy's  side  and  in  a 
moment,  cow,  calf,  and  horse,  were  struggling  in 
the  water.  At  first,  the  little  one  faltered  and  tried 
to  turn  back,  but  it  felt  Mandy's  hot  breath  on  its 
flank  and  was  soon  swimming  beside  its  mother. 

It  was  a  hard  struggle,  but  at  last  the  higher 
ground  was  reached  and  Helen  rode  triumphantly 
back  to  the  barn.  The  men  sent  up  a  shout  that 
shook  the  roof,  as  she  entered. 

"  There's  not  another  horse  on  the  river  that 
would  have  done  it,"  cried  Andrews. 

"  Nor  another  girl,"  added  John  Stanford,  ad- 
miringly. 

It  was  fortunate  that  there  had  been  no  delay 
in  moving  the  cattle,  for,  as  evening  approached,  it 
was  apparent  that  all  of  the  lowlands  would  be 
under  water  before  morning.  The  debris  piled 
against  the  railroad-bridge  held  back  such  a  body 
of  drift-wood  that  the  trainmen  did  not  dare  to 
venture  on  the  structure,  and  the  engine  stood  puf- 
fing, wheel  deep  in  mud. 

Above  the  bridge,  the  bank  had  been  cut  out  for 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  by  the  indescribable  force  of 


36  HELEN 

the  current.  Andrews,  protected  by  rubber-coat 
and  boots,  waded  out  toward  the  lower  levels,  and 
found  that  the  head  gate  of  an  old  irrigation  ditch 
had  been  torn  away,  and  that  nothing  could  now 
stop  the  torrent  that  was  cutting  across  the  fields, 
so  lately  regarded  as  his  choicest  farming  land. 
He  returned  to  the  house  in  despair. 

"  You  have  no  idea  what  this  storm  means,"  he 
said  to  Helen. 

"  What  has  happened,  father  ? "  she  inquired. 

"  The  river  has  taken  down  an  old  irrigating 
ditch  and  is  changing  the  geography  of  the  coun- 
try." 


CHAPTEK  V, 

WILLIAM  ANDREWS  knew  enough  about  law  to 
see  that  the  change  in  the  river-bed  might  disturb 
the  titles  to  a  large  number  of  small  farms.  He 
knew  that  the  old  Spanish  grants  were  usually 
bounded  by  natural  objects,  such  as  rivers,  moun- 
tains and  trees,  and  he  thought  more  than  likely 
the  San  Gabriel  river  was  Don  Alvarado's  south 
line.  If  so,  the  change  might  make  trouble  for 
years  to  come.  Not  only  might  he  lose  a  large  strip 
of  his  own  land,  but  the  whole  community  might 
become  involved  in  neighborhood  strife  over  their 
land. 

As  soon  as  the  storm  was  over  he  sent  for  his 
friend,  Mark  Watkins,  to  come  out  and  discuss 
with  him  what  steps  should  be  taken  for  having  the 
record  corrected,  and  each  man's  claim  set  out  by 
meets  and  bounds.  Scenting  much  litigation,  the 
lawyer  laid  aside  his  business  and  presented  him- 
self at  the  Andrews'  ranch. 

This  visit  proved  to  be  an  event  in  Helen's  life. 
Never  before  had  she  met  a  man  with  such  an  in- 
finite capacity  for  learned  conversation.  To  be 
sure  much  of  it  was  about  casualties.  He  told  how 
Jones  had  sued  Brown,  and  how  somebody  or  other 
had  a  cloud  on  his  title,  or  how  some  judgment  had 
been  returned  unsatisfied. 

37 


38  H  E  L  E  JNT 

But  after  a  day  and  a  night  there  came  to  the 
lawyer  a  riotous  waste  of  words  upon  subjects  nearer 
to  Helen's  understanding.  He  discussed  the  tech- 
nique of  her  pictures  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur ; 
then  went  off  upon  theology,  geology,  or  technology, 
with  equal  understanding.  His  wit,  and  the  skil- 
full  way  he  quoted  the  wit  of  others,  was  a  con- 
tinued delight  to  both  Andrews  and  his  daughter. 
Sometimes  a  look  or  an  accent  told  of  thoughts  that 
strayed  from  the  straight  and  narrow  path,  but  it 
passed  off,  leaving  nothing  more  than  a  ripple  on 
the  smooth  surface  of  the  day. 

This  edition  of  Helen's  life  lasted  a  week  when 
Mr.  Watkins  returned  to  Los  Angeles  and  the  girl 
resumed  her  wonted  duties. 

The  incidents  of  the  storm  came  back  to  her  — 
her  relation  to  the  faithful  Mandy;  her  rescue  of 
the  young  calf  and  its  great  frightened  eyes  as  it 
looked  at  her  before  it  plunged  into  the  water;  the 
cruelty  of  the  men  who  would  light  a  fire  under  a 
balky  horse ;  little  Luisa  and  her  sufferings  —  all 
came  trooping  back  and  brought  with  them  a  condi- 
tion bordering  on  sadness.  Her  father  saw  it,  but 
he  had  learned  not  to  hamper  Helen  with  talk,  for, 
faithful  and  loving  though  she  was,  he  knew  how 
lightly  she  regarded  the  opinions  of  men,  and  how 
seldom  she  sought  counsel  of  women.  Once  he  re- 
newed the  subject  of  her  going  away  to  school,  but 
she  replied  firmly: 

"Father,  I  wish  no  teachers.  I  may  never  be 
a  scholar  or  an  artist,  but  I  shall  stand  my  full 
height  for  the  things  that  mean  what  I  mean." 


HELEN  39 

"Well,  what  do  you  mean?"  asked  Andrews. 

"  I  mean  that  I  shall  do  what  I  can  for  the  com- 
munity in  which  I  live ;  a  voice  calls  me  and  I  must 
follow  it." 

Poor  Andrews  did  not  understand  that  what  his 
daughter  said  to  him,  from  time  to  time,  meant  that 
all  the  whispering  melodies  of  a  strong  nature  were 
struggling  in  her  soul. 

But  his  perplexity  was  not  of  long  duration. 
One  day  in  the  early  spring,  as  he  was  driving  a 
span  of  young  horses  down  a  steep  grade,  a  strap 
gave  way.  The  frightened  team  ran  at  a  furious 
pace  for  some  distance  and  then,  making  a  sudden 
turn,  threw  Andrews  violently  against  a  tree. 
After  a  few  short  hours  of  suffering,  his  soul  flitted 
away  to  the  silent  land,  and  they  buried  his  body 
beyond  the  orchard  beside  his  wife's. 

Helen,  so  shocked  and  so  broken  that  she  la- 
mented by  day  and  by  night,  was  now  face  to  face 
with  a  new  era.  She  had  no  relatives  to  come  to 
her  assistance,  nor  any  friend  to  whom  she  could 
entrust  the  details  of  her  father's  business.  Old 
Joe  was  her  only  dependence,  but  he  was  too  lame 
to  be  of  much  service  in  the  performance  of  manual 
labor.  Trained  by  Mrs.  Andrews,  he  had  helped  in 
the  kitchen  and  served  Helen  through  all  the  years 
of  her  girlhood,  and  now  he  seemed  the  only  prop 
she  had  with  which  to  hold  the  home  together;  but 
there  was  much  more  to  be  done  than  home-keeping. 
Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  inevitable  that 
the  affairs  of  the  ranch  should  be  thrown  sadly  out 
of  order  by  the  death  of  Andrews.  The  herders 


40  HELEN 

were  hired  men,  who  lived,  for  the  most  part,  upon 
the  range,  coming  in  for  supplies,  or  gathering  as 
occasion  required  for  branding  and  driving  stock. 
Helen  knew  but  little  of  the  details  of  their  work, 
but  understood  that,  without  supervision,  great 
waste  would  of  necessity  accrue. 

In  her  distress,  she  took  long,  solitary  rides,  or 
sat,  half-dead  with  fear  and  emotion  until  the 
Indian  thought  that  she  was  settling  into  hopeless 
melancholy. 

Her  young  neighbor,  John  Stanford,  was  untir- 
ing in  hi&  efforts  on  her  behalf;  but,  owing  to  the 
great  difference  in  their  ideals,  he  never  crossed  the 
threshold  of  her  world.  There  were  times  when 
she  positively  loathed  the  man;  times  when  merce- 
nary considerations  seemed  to  make  of  him  a  very 
demon. 

"  Calves  do  very  well  on  skimmed  milk,"  he  said 
to  her  one  day  when  he  had  surprised  her  feeding 
the  hungry  little  creatures  on  milk  fresh  from  the 
cow. 

"  I  have  seen  the  poor  little  starvelings  bleating 
continually  for  their  mothers  many  a  time,  and  I 
positively  will  not  have  it,"  she  retorted. 

Each  day,  as  she  had  a  more  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  animals  on  the  place,  the  non-killing 
conscience  grew,  until  she  refused  to  see  butchers, 
and  gave  orders  that  no  life  should  be  taken  within 
the  boundaries  of  her  land. 

All  this  seemed  to  John  Stanford  an  evidence  of 
incapacity.  On  one  occasion  he  asked  her  to  de- 
cide about  the  harvest. 


HELEN  £1 

*'  Shall  we  cut  the  barley  for  hay,  or  wait  until 
it  is  ripe  and  head  it  ? " 

Helen  looked  out  over  the  field  where  one  green 
billow  followed  another,  as  the  breeze  swept  past, 
and  replied : 

"  I  shall  leave  it  alone  —  it  is  beautiful  —  why 
not  leave  it  as  it  is  ? " 

Stanford  gazed  at  her  in  despair. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  not  suited  for  a  farmer,"  he 
said.  "  Things  on  a  ranch  must  be  looked  after 
at  the  right  time  or  they  go  to  waste." 

"  I  know  I  am  not  practical,"  she  answered,  "  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  all  questions  are  settled  by  you 
men  with  reference  alone  to  their  money  value." 

"  What  other  way  is  there  ? "  Stanford  asked  in- 
nocently. 

"  I  will  never  conform  to  that  rule,"  Helen  re- 
plied coldly. 

John  Stanford  was  not  distinguished  for  heroic 
conversation,  but  he  drew  himself  up  and  said : 

"  You  must  rent  the  ranch.  It  takes  a  man  to 
handle  a  place  like  this." 

"  Perhaps  it  does,"  Helen  admitted.  "  Perhaps 
I  ought  to  rent  the  ranch  and  go  into  town  to  live. 
Father  thought  I  ought  to  study  art  —  or  —  some- 
thing. I  am  glad  you  thought  of  it." 

John  was  not  prepared  for  this  ready  acquies- 
cence. In  his  heart  of  hearts,  renting  the  ranch 
was  the  last  thing  he  wanted  her  to  do.  It  was  a 
great  pleasure  for  the  young  man  to  look  upon  him- 
self as  Helen's  protector,  and  he  wished  to  remain 
in  that  position.  This  day,  however,  she  had 


42  HELEN 

seemed  to  him  inexcusably  wilful,  and  he  had  let 
slip  the  suggestion  before  he  realized  where  it  might 
lead. 

"  It's  not  likely  you  can  get  anyone  to  take  it," 
he  said  deprecatingly.  "  Responsible  men  don't  go 
'round  renting;  they  usually  own  their  own  land. 
But  really  you  must  look  more  to  the  profits." 

The  idea  of  renting  had  struck  Helen  favorably, 
however. 

"  I  mean  to  try  it  anyway,"  she  said. 

While  they  were  talking,  another  neighbor,  who 
had  known  her  father  for  many  years,  was  passing, 
and  Helen  stopped  him  to  ask  his  opinion  of  the 
plan. 

"  Certainly,  it's  the  best  thing  for  you,"  said  the 
old  man,  "  and,  if  you  like,  I  will  try  to  send  you  a 
tenant." 

Helen  smiled  an  assent :  "  I  really  do  not  see 
any  other  way  to  get  on,"  she  declared. 

"  But  you  can't  go  wandering  around  in  town 
the  way  you  do  here,"  Stanford  remarked. 

The  girl  drew  herself  up. 

"  Of  course,  I  can,"  she  answered.  "  I  do  not 
feel  the  need  of  any  protector." 

Seeing  that  the  props  and  supports  of  his  little 
kingdom  were  all  going  to  pieces,  Stanford,  after 
loitering  about  for  a  time,  called  Maria,  mounted 
his  horse,  and  set  out  for  home.  It  chanced  that 
the  two  canine  had  gone  higher  up  on  the  mesa 
to  examine  certain  holes  in  which  they  were  mu- 
tually interested,  and,  after  riding  half  a  mile,  the 
young  man  came  back  after  his  dog. 


HELEN  43 

He  found  Helen  and  Joe  sitting  on  the  veranda 
with  a  huge  basket  of  chili  peppers  between  them, 
which  they  were  dexterously  threading  on  strings. 
Every  two  yards  or  so  they  cut  the  cord,  tied  the 
ends,  and  hung  the  brilliant  strand  against  the  wall. 
They  were  chatting  and  laughing  as  they  worked, 
and  the  scene  was  pretty  to  look  upon.  The  young 
man  could  see  that  the  confidence  he  would  have 
been  so  glad  to  possess  was  bestowed  freely  upon  the 
Indian.  He  saw  that  she  felt  no  need  to  hide  her 
feelings  from  her  old  servitor, —  what  pleased  her, 
what  puzzled  her,  what  grieved  her, —  she  told  to 
him  in  childish  confidence  as  they  sat  and  worked 
together. 

Stanford  thought  he  had  never  seen  Helen  look 
so  beautiful  but  he  only  faltered  out: 

"  I  came  back  for  Maria  — ' 

"  Oh,"  Helen  responded,  "  they  went  off  up  the 
hill  —  she  and  Nero." 

"  They  get  on  together  better  than  we  do,"  he 
said  weakly. 

"  Oh,  no.  You  must  not  think  about  our  dif- 
ferences —  they  only  amount  to  this  —  I  seize  upon 
the  things  that  seem  most  important  to  me,  and  I 
suppose  you  do  the  same.  The  things  that  we  value, 
however,  are  not  the  same  things  —  are  they  ?  " 

"  Look  how  beautiful  the  peppers  are !  I  see 
the  color  and  the  shadow  on  the  wall.  You  see  only 
peppers  to  eat ;  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

More  vexed  than  ever,  he  stared  at  her  blankly, 
and,  as  Maria  came  up  at  the  moment,  he  again 
mounted  and  rode  away. 


44:  HELEN 

When  it  became  known  in  the  neighborhood  that 
Helen  Andrews  intended  to  rent  her  ranch,  she  had 
a  number  of  applications  from  would-be  tenants, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  she  hit  upon  one  with 
whom  she  closed  a  bargain.  A  few  days  later,  she 
rode  Mandy  over  to  the  post-office  at  Serrano,  and, 
chancing  to  see  John  Stanford,  said  to  him : 

"  I  have  taken  your  advice  and  rented  the  ranch." 

Stanford  raised  his  yellow  eyebrows  almost  to  his 
yellow  hair,  and  asked: 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  your  tenant  ? " 

"  Only  that  his  name  is  Burlingham,  and  that  he 
has  half  a  dozen  poor  little  backwoods  children,  with 
poor  little  bare  feet,  and  poor  little  drooping  heads." 

John  Stanford  was  horrified. 

"  Where  are  they  from  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Oh,  from  Kansas." 

"  I  hope  it's  all  right,"  he  said  in  a  tone  that 
pointed  strongly  to  the  opposite  desire;  "but  some- 
times these  people  who  drag  around  from  one  fron- 
tier to  another  are  not  any  too  honest.  You  ought 
to  consider  such  a  move  very  carefully  and  con- 
sider — " 

She  interrupted  him  quickly.  "  I  have  thought 
twice.  I  have  been  through  all  the  misery  of  it; 
but  I  think  these  people  need  a  place,  and  I  need 
them.  It's  a  mutual  arrangement.  I  am  very 
grateful  to  you  for  your  interest  in  my  affairs  — 
but  —  I  must  use  my  own  judgment." 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  having  a  feeling  that,  some- 
how or  other,  the  air  was  disagreeably  charged  with 
electricity. 


HELEN  £5 

"  How  soon  does  your  tenant  take  possession  ?  " 

"  Within  a  week,"  she  answered,  and  stepping  to 
the  curb  where  Mandy  was  pawing  uneasy  to  be 
off,  she  bade  him  good-bye. 

As  he  watched  the  horse's  flying  heels,  Stanford 
pondered  over  the  precipitous  methods  of  the  girl. 
She  had  undoubtedly  taken  the  reins  in  her  own 
hands,  and,  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  was 
driving  whithersoever  she  chose.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  she  needed  a  protector;  yet  he  was  conscious 
that,  when  left  to  herself,  she  came  on  very  well. 
He  could  remember  times  when  she  had  acted  quite 
in  opposition  to  his  judgment,  yet  had  shown  her- 
self capable.  He  wondered  whether,  after  all,  there 
was  method  in  her  madness,  or  whether  some  divine 
power  took  care  of  people  who  did  not  know  how  to 
take  care  of  themselves.  As  long  as  he  could  see  the 
dust  of  Mandy's  feet,  he  looked  after  the  fleeing  girl, 
and  then  said  to  a  young  man  standing  beside  him: 

"Well,  rilbedurned!" 

Once  out  of  sight  of  her  would-be  adviser,  Helen 
fell  into  a  state  of  exaltation.  She  .  believed  that 
the  danger  signals  raised  by  John  Stanford  were 
only  reflections  of  his  own  narrow  nature.  She  be- 
lieved them  to  be  the  vagaries  of  the  man  who  lives 
for  gain. 

Passing  a  field  of  tar-weed,  she  reached  down; 
from  the  saddle  and  picked  a  long,  yellow  spray, 
which  she  fastened  in  the  bridle  above  Mandy's 
forehead;  then  sped  on  up  the  grade,  all  the  while 
talking  aloud  to  Mandy. 

"  These  magnificent  journeys  of  ours  are  coming 


46  HELEN" 

to  an  end,  dear  little  friend.  How  many  times  we 
have  raced  over  this  road  together,  haven't  we  ? 
And  now  I  must  go  and  leave  you,  but  you  know 
how  to  balk,  don't  you  ?  If  these  new  people  put 
a  Spanish  bit  in  your  mouth,  you  won't  go,  will 
you?" 

When  she  reached  the  barn,  she  filled  Mandy's 
manger  to  overflowing  with  hay  and  started  toward 
the  house ;  but  the  plaintive  evening  song  of  a  whip- 
poor-will  called  her  back  toward  the  orchard.  How 
still  the  landscape  lay!  All  the  turmoil  of  the 
world  seemed  shut  out,  and  there  was  only  the  little 
gray  bird  discharging  his  battery  of  song  at  the 
great  monotonous  sky. 

"  No  one  knows  what  you  mean  by  your  call, 
sweet  one,  but  it  echoes  in  my  heart  and  makes  me 
know  that  of  a  truth  you  and  I  are  creatures  of  the 
plains.  But  I  am  going  to  leave  you,  dear  bird. 
Perhaps  study  and  society  have  been  undervalued 
by  me.  Perhaps  I  can  never  do  much  good  —  un- 
less I  live  more  with  my  own  human  kind." 

As  she  paused,  she  chanced  to  look  towards  the 
old  shack,  and  there  she  saw  the  Mexican,  to  whom 
she  had  given  the  eggs,  lying  prone  across  the  path. 
She  considered  it  her  duty  to  do  something  for  him 
and  called  Joe. 

Joe  did  not  calmly  think  out  a  plan  for  the  salva- 
tion of  the  Mexican,  but  turned  him  over  with  his 
foot  and  saw  that  he  was  too  stupid  with  drink  to 
go  on. 

"  Take  him  home,"  said  Helen  pleadingly.     "  I 


H  E  L  E  N  47 

will  help  you  harness  old  Billy.  If  we  hurry,  you 
can  get  back  before  dark." 

The  Indian  was  not  in  a  mood  to  enthuse  over 
the  matter,  but;  obeyed,  harnessing  old  Billy  to  a 
light  wagon,  and,  by  dint  of  kicks  and  physical 
exertion,  he  got  the  man  in  and  drove  off. 

When  he  returned,  Helen  questioned  him  about 
the  place  and  the  little  girl,  and  learning  that  it 
was  a  poor  hut  and  that  the  child  was  very  fright- 
ened and  very  miserable,  she  said : 

"  When  I  am  gone  will  you  look  after  her  a  lit- 
tle ?  She  must  need  much  done  for  her.  Was 
there  no  woman  about  the  place  ? " 

"  I  saw  none,"  said  the  Indian. 

"  Poor  little  Luisa,"  whispered  Helen.  "  It 
makes  my  heart  ache  to  think  of  her." 


CHAPTER  VI 

As  no  will  had  been  found  among  Andrews' 
papers,  Helen  was  dependent  upon  the  lawyer,  Mark 
Watkins,  for  much  advice.  As  she  came  near  to 
him  in  matters  of  business,  his  polished  sentences 
did  not  convey  to  her  mind  the  curious  pleasure  that 
they  had  when  first  she  knew  him.  Sometimes  she 
thought  they  might  cover  a  multitude  of  sins.  Old 
Joe  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  opinion. 

"  When  you  get  settled  in  town,"  he  advised, 
"  you  must  learn  to  look  after  your  own  business. 
Men  may  come  any  day  with  lies  to  steal  away  your 
land." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Helen,  "  nothing  is  so  well  done 
as  the  things  we  do  ourselves." 

The  Indian  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  the 
same  —  always  the  same  that  your  mother  would 
have  said." 

A  hot  tear  came  into  Helen's  eye.  "  Do  you 
really  think  I  shall  ever  be  as  competent  as  my 
mother  was  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  Indian  made  no  reply,  but  began  packing 
some  of  the  things  that  were  to  be  stored  away  be- 
fore the  Burlinghams  took  possession.  There  was 
much  to  be  done  in  preparation  for  the  change.  A 
part  of  the  house  had  been  reserved  by  Helen  for 
herself  and  her  effects,  and  into  this  must  be  gath- 

48 


HELEN  49 

ercd  many  of  the  articles  that  had  belonged  to  her 
parents  —  things  that  were  too  precious  in  her  eyes 
to  be  turned  over  to  strangers.  Old  Joe  was  inval- 
uable in  this  sort  of  work,  and  was  never  too  tired 
to  help  in  sorting,  moving,  and  arranging. 

All  the  week  Helen  and  the  Indian  had  worked 
together  and  had  nearly  finished  their  task  when 
one  morning  John  Stanford  drove  familiarly  around 
to  the  kitchen  door  and  knocked.  Nero  gave  tongue 
and  this  brought  Joe  out  upon  the  veranda. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  said  to  Stanford,  and  "  good- 
morning  "  to  Maria.  Maria  wagged  her  shaggy  tail 
wThile  her  master  took  the  chair  offered  him,  and 
rather  sullenly  awaited  the  appearance  of  Helen. 
Instead  of  greeting  him,  as  he  expected  the  young 
woman  to  do,  she  went  to  the  pantry  for  a  pan  of 
skimmed  milk  which  she  placed  on  the  floor  inviting 
the  dogs  to  drink,  and  then  she  began  sorting  a  box 
of  old  letters. 

"  I  thought  maybe  you'd  changed  your  mind  by 
this  time  about  renting  the  place,"  Stanford  began 
rather  awkwardly.  "  These  *  back  east '  folks  don't 
know  very  much  about  farming  in  California.  The 
place  will  run  down  like  the  dickens,  if  you  put  that 
kind  of  man  in  charge." 

"  He  will  surely  manage  it  better  than  I  am 
doing,"  was  her  answer. 

"  I've  been  finding  out  things  about  him,"  con- 
tinued Stanford.  "  He's  a  regular  mover  —  that's 
the  kind  of  man  he  is.  If  me  and  you  would  stick 
together  we  could  make  a  lot  of  money  next  year. 
Beef's  going  to  be  high." 


50  HELEN 

Helen  picked  up  the  box  of  letters  and  rummaged 
deep  to  the  bottom. 

It  took  the  young  man  a  long  time  to  realize  that 
his  arguments  had  not  made  the  slightest  impression 
upon  the  girl.  His  appeals  to  her  interest,  from  a 
financial  point  of  view,  did  not  in  the  least  suc- 
ceed, and  when  he  drew  nearer  and  tried  to  touch 
her  heart,  she  seemed  to  slip  still  farther  away.  If 
he  cited  the  dangers  of  the  city,  the  noise  and  the 
lack  of  space,  it  elicited  no  more  than  a  passing 
smile;  so,  after  an  hour,  he  departed,  leaving  Helen 
and  Joe  to  resume  their  work. 

The  great  shelves  of  books  that  were  heirlooms  in 
the  family  were  dusted  and  packed;  such  articles 
of  clothing  as  they  felt  to  be  suitable  for  the  new- 
comers were  hung  in  the  kitchen,  and  a  package  of 
toys  was  tied  up  for  Luisa. 

Joe  understood  that  he  was  part  and  parcel  of  the 
premises  that  the  Burlingham's  had  undertaken  to 
use  and  return  in  good  condition,  and  that  his  life 
was  to  go  on  as  usual  during  Helen's  absence,  but 
he  looked  with  fear  upon  the  change.  His  Indian 
blood  forbade  him  to  complain  but  dark  shadows 
crept  across  his  forehead  and  into  his  coal  black 
eyes. 

It  was  late  oil  Saturday  when  the  Burlingham 
family  arrived.  Helen  and  the  Indian  watched  the 
rickety  old  wagon,  as  it  came  squeaking  past  the 
Three  Trees.  High  up  on  the  spring  seat  sat  the 
father,  driving  a  span  of  horses  so  thin  that  a  buz- 
zard soared  up  and  up  above  them.  Trailing  after 
the  first  wagon  was  an  old  goloshe-top  buggy,  in  which 


HELEN  51 

was  seated  Mrs.  Burlingham,  with  a  six-months-old 
baby  in  her  lap,  while  beside  her,  dangling  her  bare 
feet  over  the  box,  a  little  girl  chattered.  Strung 
out  over  the  road  were  other  spindling  boys  and 
girls,  one  of  whom  led  an  old  mule  with  a  sore  back. 

At  close  range,  Burlingham  developed  the  stoop 
and  the  cough  of  the  consumptive.  In  his  face  was 
pallor  and  patience,  and  long  suffering.  He  stopped 
the  horses  at  the  back  door,  climbed  down  stiffly, 
and  went  around  to  the  side  of  the  buggy. 

"  Give  me  the  baby,  mother,"  he  said  cheerfully, 
"  I  guess  you  be  tired." 

"  Yes,"  his  wife  replied  petulantly,  "  I  am  glad 
to  get  to  a  place  where  we  can  stop."  Then,  call- 
ing to  her  eldest  daughter:  "Come,  Mary  Jane, 
come  now  and  help  unload." 

"  Have  you  come  far  ? "  Helen  asked  kindly,  as 
she  led  the  way  into  the  kitchen. 

"  We  have  been  camping  down  in  the  arroya  for  a 
spell  back,  but  we're  all  the  way  from  Kansas,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Burlingham. 

"  Well,"  laughed  Helen,  "  then  you  are  nearing 
the  end  of  your  journey,  for  you  have  almost  reached 
the  Pacific  ocean." 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I  say.  You  see,"  she  ex- 
plained, "  pap's  got  a  cough  — " 

"  Ah,  it's  climate  that  you  are  after,"  said  Helen. 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Burlingham  responded  wearily,  "  it's 
climate  —  we  never  git  anything  else.  Sometimes 
pap  looks  for  gold  mines,  but  he  never  finds  none." 

"  Well,  never  mind,  mother,"  said  her  husband, 
"  if  you'll  only  be  easy  in  your  mind  we'll  be  real 


52  HELEN 

comfortable  here."  Then,  looking  towards  the 
mountains,  .he  added.  "  My !  but  this  is  a  terrible 
nice  view !  " 

His  wife  sat  down  in  a  rocking  chair,  with  her 
back  toward  him,  and  began  nursing  the  baby,  her 
eyes  traveling  from  one  object  to  another.  When 
she  spoke  again  she  said :  "  We  never  can  keep 
warm  with  them  fireplaces;  we  tried  it  back  east," 

Burlingham  looked  at  her  with  a  tenderness  that 
was  pathetic,  then,  turning  to  Helen,  he  said :  "  If 
you  don't  mind,  I'll  get  mother  something  hot  to 
drink." 

He  took  off  the  stove  lid  and  poked  the  embers  to- 
gether. "  Here's  fire,"  he  said,  and  pulling  the  tea 
kettle  forward,  he  hovered  over  a  basket  that  con- 
tained cooking  utensils. 

"Which  can's  got  the  tea  in?  Way  off,  I  can 
see  as  well's  ever  I  did  —  but  close  —  it  seems  as 
though  everything  is  blurry.  I  got  hold  of  the  pep- 
per t'other  day,  and  was  going  to  sp'ile  something, 
but  Mary  Jane  stopped  me,  Mary  Jane  did  - 

His  wife  reached  into  the  basket  and  brought  out 
an  old  tin  canister,  which  she  handed  him  without 
a  word. 

"  I've  thought  a  good  many  times,"  the  man  re- 
sumed, "  that  there  wasn't  nothing  in  the  world  so 
good  as  a  real  nice  cup  of  tea.  'Member  the  time 
Purdy  stopped  with  us,  how  many  times  we  looked 
at  the  groun's  ?  He  could  tell  what  they  meant,  but 
I  can't" 


CHAPTER  VII 

MANY  years  ago,  on  a  well  known  street  in  Los 
Angeles,  there  was  a  boarding  house  called  the 
"  Buena  Vista,"  a  sweet  Spanish  name,  meaning 
"  good  view."  Why  Mrs.  Parker  had  chosen  so  fair 
a  name  for  a  place  on  the  bottom  lands,  where  there 
was  no  view  at  all,  was  a  problem  none  could  solve. 
It  was  whispered  that  the  house  had  been  built  by  an 
old  Frenchman,  without  the  slightest  reference  to 
the  view;  but  with  an  eye  single  to  a  certain  zanja, 
which  carried  forty  inches  of  water  when  he  stood 
over  it  with  a  shot-gun,  and  fell  down  to  half  that 
amount  when  he  was  absent;  and  that  he  had  called 
the  place  "  La  Zarza,"  which  meant  "  The  Briar." 

But  the  time  came  when  the  city  water  company 
owned  and  controlled  the  zanja,  and  the  Frenchman, 
having  lost  his  occupation,  sold  out  to  Mrs.  Parker, 
who  after  making  divers  and  sundry  improvements, 
re-christened  the  house  and  opened  the  "  Buena. 
Vista  "  where  once  had  been  only  "  La  Zarza." 

Some  wit  had  Mrs.  Parker  and  some  beauty  and 
because  she  had  seen  better  days,  she  was  on  terms 
of  equality  with  certain  society  women  whose  com- 
pany was  supposed  to  be  a  salve  for  the  "  who's  who  " 
that  arises  wherever  women  congregate.  Notwith- 
standing her  social  position  Mrs.  Parker  was  an  in- 
dustrious purveyor  of  news  and,  like  the  name  on 

53 


54:  HELEN 

her  house,  told  little  fibs,  when  they  served  her  pur- 
pose better  than  the  truth. 

On  a  warm  October  morning,  Helen  Andrews, 
passing  by  the  Buena  Vista,  saw  a  sign  on  the  porch, 
which  read,  "  Furnished  rooms  and  board."  Being 
in  search  of  such  accommodations,  she  tripped  lightly 
up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell,  then  turned  about  and 
looked  at  the  nasturtiums  that  were  climbing  up  a 
trellis  of  white  string. 

After  a  few  moments  the  door  was  opened  by  a  lit- 
tle woman,  with  clear  blue  eyes,  who  gazed  into 
Helen's  face  as  though  it  held  a  breath  of  fragrance 
for  her. 

"  And  what  can  I  do  for  such  a  sweet  young  lass  ?  " 
asked  the  maid. 

"  I  am  looking  for  rooms.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  see 
the  landlady  — " 

"  Indade,  I  know  it,"  the  woman  answered,  still 
looking  admiringly  at  Helen,  "  but  there's  plenty  of 
rooms  —  an' —  I  want  ye  to  stay." 

Her  Scotch-Irish  accent  had  a  ring  of  honesty  in 
it  that  drew  Helen's  heart  toward  her.  "  Tell  me 
your  name,"  she  said.  "  If  I  come  here  to  live,  we 
must  be  friends." 

"  My  name  is  Margaret,"  the  woman  replied  with 
a  little  nod,  "  I'm  only  the  sarvant, —  but  I  want 
you  to  stay."  Then  she  hurried  off  to  that  part  of 
the  house  where  Mrs.  Parker  was  most  likely  to  be 
found. 

When  that  lady  reached  the  door,  she  seemed  a 
little  shocked  to  find  a  young  woman  seeking  rooms 
for  herself  alone,  and  said,  "  You  must  tell  me  who 


HELEN  55 

you  are.  We  have  to  be  a  little  careful  whom  we 
take." 

Helen,  who  thought  she  was  abundantly  protected 
by  her  honesty  of  purpose,  wondered  if  she  ought 
not  to  sail  loftily  away.  But  Mrs.  Parker,  seeing 
the  expression  on  her  face,  changed  her  demeanor  and 
said :  — 

"  Will  you  come  in  ?     I  did  not  mean  to  question 

you." 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  offer  credentials,"  returned 
Helen  coldly,  "  I  am  from  Serrano,  and  I  am  coming 
into  town,  in  part  to  settle  my  father's  estate,  and  in 
part  to  study  art." 

The  word  "  estate  "  acted  as  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters.  Not  many  of  her  patrons  were  burdened 
with  estates,  and  a  young  lady  thus  endowed  in  her 
house  might  be  turned  to  advantage  in  more  ways 
than  one,  so  she  said : 

"  Oh,  just  come  right  upstairs.  I  have  several  nice 
suites  that  are  vacant." 

As  she  led  the  way  from  room  to  room  Helen  felt 
some  reluctance  about  remaining,  but  when  they  came 
to  good  north  light  she  paid  a  month's  rent  in.  ad- 
vance and  went  off  to  get  her  trunk. 

When  she  returned,  the  room  was  swept  and  dusted 
and  before  night  Helen  had  shaken  the  wrinkles  out 
of  her  small  wardrobe  and  was  trying  to  accustom 
herself  to  the  noises  and  footsteps  of  a  new  home. 
She  was  possessed  with  the  idea  that  the  air  was  bad, 
and  that  she  could  not  see  out, —  even  worse, —  that 
there  was  an  odor  of  uncleanliness  about  the  walls. 
But  she  was  very  tired,  and  pulling  a  rocking  chair 


56  HELEN; 

to  the  window  sat  down  to  rest.  Never  before  had 
she  seen  darkness  creeping  over  the  earth  without  rev- 
erent emotion.  At  dusk  the  great  out  of  doors  had 
always  impressed  her  as  an  hour  of  solemn  import, 
but  here  the  distance  was  obscured  and  a  medley  of 
strange  noises  floated  through  the  air. 

She  was  aroused  from  her  meditations  by  a  rus- 
tling sound  at  her  door,  and  asked  a  little  timidly: 

"  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  only  Mrs.  Parker,"  came  the  reply. 
"  May  I  come  in  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  and  Helen  unlocked  the  door. 

The  landlady  seated  herself  and  began  to  chat  in 
such  a  friendly  way  that  Helen  was  almost  ashamed 
of  her  loneliness  and  laughed  gaily  at  the  idea  of 
sending  out  for  ice-cream.  It  was  a  new  experience 
to  Helen  to  be  able  to  order  sweets  at  a  moment's 
notice.  At  the  ranch,  ice-cream  had  been  something 
to  be  accomplished  only  with  great  labor;  but  here 
it  came  apparently  with  no  trouble  at  all.  Over 
the  repast,  Mrs.  Parker  took  the  role  of  adviser, 
and  Helen  listened,  as  yet,  too  inexperienced  to  ex- 
press an  opinion.  At  last,  however,  Mrs.  Parker 
said: 

"  It's  a  cruel,  bad  world,  and  we  have  to  be  very 
careful  with  whom  we  associate." 

Helen's  reticenc  gave  way,  and  she  replied :  "  I 
do  not  understand  that  at  all.  To  me  the  world  is 
beautiful,  and  all  the  people  good." 

"  Such  ideas  may  do  in  the  country,"  admitted 
the  landlady,  "  but  in  town  there  are  certain  women 
whose  society  I  would  advise  you  to  cultivate  and 


HELEN  57 

certain  others  that  you  should  avoid.  You  must 
let  me  take  care  of  you  —  you  really  must." 

"  Oh,"  Helen  exclaimed,  "  I  am  never  afraid  of 
people, —  I  get  on  very  well  with  everyone." 

There  was  a  mixture  of  innocence  and  mockery  in 
her  voice  which  annoyed  Mrs.  Parker,  and  she  an- 
swered dryly. 

"  When  you  have  lived  in  town  longer,  you  will 
see  that  I  am  right." 

The  conversation  continued  for  an  hour,  leaving 
in  Helen's  mind  the  idea  that  Mrs.  Parker  was  mak- 
ing furtive  attempts  at  respectability.  Even  after 
she  went  to  bed  she  had  the  impression  that  narrow- 
ness and  pretentiousness  cast  a  withering  influence 
over  the  house. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Parker  introduced  Helen  to 
the  other  ladies,  explaining,  as  she  did  so,  that  Miss 
Andrews  was  in  town  for  the  purpose  of  settling 
up  her  estate,  with  so  much  stress  laid  upon  the  one 
word  that  the  girl,  on  going  to  her  own  room,  re- 
flected quite  seriously  upon  her  own  lack  of  discre- 
tion in  mentioning  it. 

The  wholesome  honesty  of  Margaret  was  to  her 
the  most  charming  thing  in  the  house,  and  there 
sprang  up  between  the  two  a  warm  friendship,  but 
this  seemed  to  Mrs.  Parker  a  setting  aside  of  all  the 
conventional  notions  of  social  intercourse. 

Thus  things  went  on  for  a  time  when,  one  day, 
Mrs.  Parker  invited  Helen  to  a  "  little  informal 
tea,"  to  be  given  under  the  orange  trees. 

"  You  will  come,  won't  you  ? "  she  urged. 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  answered  Helen,  "  I  take 


58  HELEN 

my  drawing  lesson  at  1  o'clock,  and  after  that  I 
shall  be  at  liberty." 

When  the  time  came  to  dress  she  felt  a  little 
misgiving  lest  her  simple  blue  lawn  should  not  be 
suited  to  the  occasion. 

"  I  do  look  so  countrified,"  she  said  to  Margaret, 
who  had  come  to  her  room  on  an  errand. 

"  You  will  look  better  than  any  of  them,"  asserted 
Margaret  admiringly.  "  The  women  that  trail  silk 
dresses  over  the  floor  have  nothing  but  their  clothes." 

Helen,  laughed  and  ran  lightly  down  the  stairs. 

She  found  the  parlor  full  of  beautifully  dressed 
women  and  felt  greatly  embarrassed;  but  she  lis- 
tened to  the  conversation  with  the  expectation  of 
hearing  interesting  themes  discussed.  To  her  sur- 
prise, however,  she  only  heard  Mrs.  Maynard  telling 
Mrs.  Whitney  about  her  new  cook  —  who,  she  said, 
gave  her  "  the  fidgets." 

Then  followed  a  little  talk  about  the  weather,  and 
Helen  drifted  within  hearing  of  another  group. 

"  I  met  John  Carr  this  morning,  and  he  told  me 
that  he  was  engaged  to  Violet  Church!  What  do 
you  think  of  that  ?  "  one  lady  said  to  another. 

"  I  think  some  board  of  examiners  ought  to  clap 
him  into  a  lunatic  asylum,"  was  the  reply. 

Another  group  was  discussing  their  club,  and  it 
was  whispered,  with  an  air  of  mystery,  that  Mrs. 
Jones  had  been  blackballed  and  that  Mrs.  Stimson 
dare  not  apply  for  membership,  lest  she  also  should 
go  out  under  the  cloud  of  rejection. 

Helen  felt  that  a  train  of  trifles  was  being  poured 
into  her  ears  that  might  just  as  well  be  left  unsaid. 


HELEN  59 

The  deference  paid  to  money;  the  pitiful  attempts 
at  youthfulness ;  the  merciless  scrutiny  of  each  other 
made  Helen  wonder  if,  after  all,  women  were  not 
fated  to  carry  along  forever  the  curse  of  frivolity. 
She  went  back  to  her  room  quite  dejected  and  some 
hours  later,  when  Mrs.  Parker  called,  she  had  al- 
most made  up  her  mind  to  go  back  to  the  ranch  and 
stay  there. 

Mrs.  Parker  was  astonished  to  find  that  this 
young  country  girl,  in  a  blue  lawn  dress,  who  had 
been  received  at  her  tea  with  tolerable  cordiality, 
did  not  in  the  least  appreciate  what  had  been  done 
for  her.  Hoping  that  she  might  explain  herself, 
she  inquired  what  it  was  that  had  offended  Helen. 

"  I  am  not  offended,"  Helen  replied,  "  but  what 
is  it  all  worth  —  this  show  of  appearances." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Parker. 

"  I  mean  that  I  watched  and  waited  for  that 
sacred  thing  called  friendship  —  that  thing  which  is 
made  for  people  who  love  one  another." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  society  of  men  ? "  Mrs. 
Parker,  thoroughly  mystified,  inquired. 

"  Yes ;  I  mean  the  society  of  both  men  and  women 
who  have  a  personality." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  don't  in  the  least  understand 
what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,"  explained  the  girl,  "  the  ladies  at  your 
party  seemed  to  me  to  have  no  more  character  than 
is  found  behind  the  great,  brown  eyes  of  a  heifer. 
If  I  could  paint  what  is  in  my  heart,  I  should  put 
anarchism  on  canvas,  in  the  form  of  a  strong  female 
figure,  tearing  to  pieces  the  foolish  social  system." 


60  HELEN 

"  You  must  get  over  your  passion  for  reforming 
the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Parker.  "  The  only  excuse 
I  can  think  of  for  you  is  that  you  have  lived  in  the 
country  so  much  of  your  life.  When  you  are  better 
acquainted  with  our  ways,  you  will  see  differently. 
You  must  learn  to  conform  to  social  usage." 

"  No,"  replied  Helen.  "  I  shall  not  conform ; 
I  have  an  idea  that  each  individual  is  of  value  to 
the  world  only  as  he  throws  off  the  burden  of  ap- 
pearing —  and  lives  honestly.  If  I  can  find  a  place 
where  my  services  are  needed  there  shall  I  stay, 
with  no  regard  whatever  for  society." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  her  loneliness  at  the  Buena  Vista,  Helen  came 
very  near  to  Mark  Watkins,  who  called  from  time 
to  time  on  business.  He  spoke  more  to  Helen's  un- 
derstanding than  did  the  women  with  whom  she 
came  in  contact.  It  was  whispered  downstairs  that 
he  drank,  and  that  he  was  guilty  of  other  great 
sins,  the  older  and  more  conservative  of  the  ladies 
embarking  on  recitals  of  his  guilt  and  predicting 
that  his  visits  to  Helen  would  give  occasion  to  the 
enemy  in  the  form  of  "  Oh,  how  dreadful !  "  and 
"  I  told  you  so."  'But  Helen  paid  no  attention  to 
their  criticisms,  and  as  the  days  slipped  by  re- 
ceived his  visits  more  and  more  frequently. 

There  was  no  week  in  which  Mr.  Watkins  did 
not  call  upon  his  client,  and  no  time  when  he  was 
not  welcome.  Sometimes  Helen  felt  a  great  dif- 
ference between  his  ideals  and  hers,  but  whenever 
he  came  she  was  fed  with  intellectual  manna.  From 
classical  poetry  to  the  latest  discovery  in  physics  he 
was  ever  ready  to  quote.  Descriptions  of  life  at 
Harvard,  where  Mr.  Watkins  had  graduated,  filled 
her  with  delight. 

"  You  must  tell  me,"  she  said  one  day  when  he 
called,  "  what  that  curious  and  impassible  gulf  is 
that  lies  between  us  and  the  people  from  '  back 

61 


62  HELEN 

east.'  I  suppose  the  word  l  tenderfoot '  has  a  mean- 
ing, but  I  have  never  been  quite  able  to  discover 
it." 

"  Yes,"  said  he  laughing.  "  Like  most  western 
slang,  it  has  a  decided  significance.  It  is  an  apt 
way  of  saying  that  the  newcomer  is  a  prig.  Even 
the  Harvard  graduate  when,  he  comes  here  deals  out 
formulas  of  the  New  England  schoolmarm  to  an 
audience  of  cow  boys  who  know  more  than  he  does. 
The  shepherd  who  lives  alone  with  his  sheep  is,  at 
least,  an  original  thinker,  and  has  a  case  against 
the  man  who  lectures  him  about  culture.  The  poor 
tenderfoot  may  be  polite  and  well  educated,  but  his 
very  virtues  stand  in  the  way  of  our  loving  him." 

"  But  he  becomes  the  Westerner  in  time,  does  he 
not  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  Yes, —  but  it  takes  time.  For  years  he  goes 
about  in  the  spirit  of  a  Sunday  school  teacher  who 
is  never  quite  happy  unless  he  is  moralizing.  It 
makes  one  feel  instinctively  that  he  is  suppressing 
evidence  against  himself;  most  people  who  talk  so 
good  do  so  because  they  themselves  are  so  bad." 

"  How  clearly  you  have  explained  a  problem  that 
I  never  could  have  understood.  I  knew  that  the 
cowboys  refused  to  make  friends  with  the  newly 
arrived;  but  the  reason  was  always  a  puzzle  to  me." 

"  It  is  because  we  live  out-of-doors.  In  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  the  voice  with  a  message  to  deliver 
has  come  from  the  wilderness.  Culture  is  sure  to 
be  nonplussed  when  confronted  by  the  actual.  Bos- 
ton reckoned  without  her  host  when  she  left  out  the 
great  west. 


HELEN,  63 

"  It  almost  makes  me  wonder  whether  culture  is 
good  for  people,"  Helen  interjected. 

"  If  we  use  the  word  as  it  is  understood  in  ultra- 
respectable  society,  I  should  say  it  is  not.  From 
examination  of  a  large  number  of  cases,  it  seems  to 
me  a  contagion  suited  to  the  docile  mind." 

Helen  laughed  outright.  "  Then  you  and  I  are 
in  no  danger  of  catching  the  disease,  are  we  ? " 

But  there  came  a  day  when  Helen's  courageous 
attitude  toward  Mr.  Watkins  received  a  severe 
shock.  One  afternoon  he  called  and,  finding  no  one 
in  the  parlor,  passed  through  the  hall  and  went  di- 
rectly to  Helen's  studio,  where  he  found  her  rub- 
bing cobalt-blue  into  a  sky  that  she  was  painting. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come,"  was  her  greeting ; 
"  I  am  in  trouble  with  this  sky.  It  has  nowhere 
near  the  fleecy  look  that  I  want." 

"  Why  don't  you  paint  yourself,  Miss  Andrews  ?  " 
he  asked,  "  you  ought  to  be  in  love  with  your  own 
face." 

Helen  paid  no  attention  to  this  foolish  sally,  but- 
rubbed  some  black  into  her  color,  thus  turning  it 
to  ivory  gray,  and,  holding  her  palette-knife  against 
the  light,  she  cried :  — 

"  Oh,  it  was  too  blue !  " 

But  he  refused  to  look,  and,  after  a  few  cursory 
remarks  about  business  affairs,  began  in  his  easy, 
flowing  language,  to  talk  of  his  own  private  life. 
As  he  came  a  little  nearer  to  the  girl,  she  saw  that 
he  had  been  drinking.  His  eye  was  bold  and  his 
breath  fetid,  and,  taking  him  all  in  all,  he  had  some- 
thing the  appearance  of  a  beast. 


64:  HELEN 

"  I  must  not  criticise  womankind,"  lie  began,  "  but 
the  whole  foolish  show  of  society  is  driving  the 
higher  morality  out  of  men's  lives." 

Helen  took  her  brush  and  began  rubbing  the  pearl 
gray  into  her  sky. 

"  You  are  not  interested,  little  one,"  he  went  on, 
"  but  I  say  it  again.  Women  are  destroying  the 
higher  morality  of  men.  They  are  not  companion- 
able. They  are  not  logical." 

"  How  can  they  be  logical  ?  "  returned  Helen.  "  It 
is  the  men  who  do  everything,  and,  of  course,  it  is 
they  who  learn  to  reason." 

"  I  do  not  mean  the  logic  of  business  affairs ;  I 
mean  the  logic  that  makes  homes,"  he  replied  in- 
coherently. "  Men  want  comradeship  from  women, 
not  the  show  of  appearances.  I  am  going  to  tell 
you,  Helen, —  I  have  had  high  ideals  —  perhaps 
higher  than  most  men, —  but  I  am  giving  them  up." 

"  Oh,"  Helen  said,  "  I  suppose  you  get  tired  of 
going  like  a  horse  in  a  mill  and  need  a  change.  Is 
that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No ;  worse  than  that.  May  I  tell  you  ?  I  feel 
like  confessing  my  sins  to-day — " 

"  Trifling  sins,  I  am  sure  they  are,"  said  Helen, 
a  little  alarmed.  "  The  people  in  the  community 
respect  you." 

"  Perhaps  they  do  not  know  —  perhaps  a  man 
may  build  himself  a  hell  and  live  in  it,  and  still  go 
on  tolerably  well  before  the  public."  His  tone  was 
bitter. 

"  You  are  not  calm,  to-day,  Mr.  Watkins.  Some- 
thing has  happened  to  throw  you  out  of  your  pace," 


HELEN  65 

"  How  can  a  man  be  calm  who  has  to  do  with 
all  kinds  of  folly  and  wickedness?  As  malice 
breeds  malice  and  as  serpent  engenders  serpent,  so 
does  the  practice  of  law  engender  sin." 

"  Let  us  not  think  about  it,"  Helen  spoke  sooth- 
ingly, and,  taking  up  a  little  study  of  still  water, 
with  a  mountain  peak  reflected  in  its  green  depths, 
she  asked  him  to  criticise  it. 

"  It  is  San  Antonio,"  he  said.  "  You  cannot  see 
it  from  here, —  this  l  Buena  Vista '  is  like  all  the 
rest  —  a  mere  pretense." 

Helen  laughed.  "  I  do  not  need  to  see  it.  It  is 
always  in  sight  from  the  ranch  and  it  is  graven  on 
my  heart.  It  beckons  me.  I  know  every  crag  and 
canon  of  it." 

"  You  confirm  what  I  told  you  the  other  day 
about  the  tenderfoot,"  he  replied.  "  You  are  a 
thousand  times  more  of  an  artist  than  those  who 
study  in  schools.  The  joy  of  the  hills  is  in  your 
work." 

"  No ;  not  always.  Look  at  this, —  it  is  my  latest 
and  yet  —  the  sky  looks  like  wool !  I  have  scraped 
it  and  done  it  over  —  but  —  it  is  not  right." 

"  Yours  is  only  a  picture  that  will  not  come  right 
—  mine  is  myself.  You  have  a  desire  to  handle 
color  —  I  have  a  desire  to  handle  myself  —  and  I 
cannot  do  it." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  a  look  of  demoniacal 
strength  came  into  his  eye  and  his  broad,  sensual 
shoulders  shrugged  forward  as  Helen  had  never  seen 
them  do  before.  His  whole  aspect  frightened  her. 
Intuition,  which  protects  the  pure  and  the  good, 


60  HELEN 

told  her  that  this  interview  had  lasted  long  enough. 
She  turned  toward  the  door,  and,  had  she  not  seen 
Margaret  approaching,  she  would  have  fled. 

After  he  had  gone,  Helen  whispered  to  Margaret 
that  she  had  a  little  fear  of  Mr.  Watkins,  especially 
when  he  had  been  drinking. 

Margaret's  Scotch-Irish  temper  rose  to  a  fright- 
ful pitch, — "  I  have  always  said  —  and  I  say  it 
again  —  that  when  a  man  insults  me,  I  will  shoot 
him !  "  said  Margaret. 

"  Oh  Margaret ! "  Helen  answered  faintly. 
"  How  I  wish  you  had  not  such  a  temper !  " 

She  did  not  mention  Mr.  Watkins'  call  to  Mrs. 
Parker,  but  remained  alone  and  miserable  in  her 
room;  and  at  a  very  early  hour  crept  into  bed, 
where  she  lay  with  a  medley  of  thoughts  storming 
through  her  brain.  There  seemed  to  be  a  hot 
breath  upon  her  face  and  a  whining  in  her  ears. 
Once  she  fancied  that  she  heard  the  hoofs  of  Mandy 
Jones  flying  past  the  window,  and  before  midnight, 
she  had  a  fever,  and  rose  and  tied  a  towel  about 
her  forehead.  There  were  still  wagons  passing  in 
the  street  and  a  light  burning  in  the  hall;  but  she 
felt  afraid,  and,  running  back  to  her  bed,  drew  the 
blankets  over  her  head. 

When  she  finally  fell  asleep,  she  dreamed  of  the 
gnarled  old  cypress  near  the  graves  of  her  parents 
and  of  the  cross  made  by  the  sycamores,  and  awoke 
in  the  morning  with  a  conviction  that  Fate  meant 
her  to  return  to  the  ranch. 

"  I  really  am  homesick,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Parker. 


HELEN  67 

"  I  think  I  must  stop  work  for  awhile  and  go  back 
to  the  ranch." 

Mrs.  Parker  assured  her  that  it  was  only  a  little 
bilious  attack  and  brought  her  a  cup  of  savory  herb 
tea  to  drink.  But  Helen  declined  it,  saying  — 

"  I  am  hungry  for  the  country.  I  believe  I  can 
paint  better  out  of  doors.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
Nature  is  the  greatest  teacher  we  can  have." 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  Sunday  morning  when  Helen  reached 
home  and  the  ranch  had  an  air  of  inactivity  suited 
to  the  day.  The  Burlingham  children  had  gone  to 
the  school  house,  two  miles  away,  to  recite  a  verse 
from  the  Bible,  Burlingham  sat  tipped  back  on  the 
veranda,  stiff  and  uncomfortable  in  a  shiny  black 
coat,  while  Mrs.  Burlingham  was  fuming  about  the 
kitchen. 

As  Helen  had  walked  from  the  station,  past  the 
graves  and  through  the  orchard,  she  came  up  to  the 
back-door  unobserved,  and,  without  any  intention  of 
listening,  heard  Mrs.  Burlingham  saying  to  her 
liege  lord  and  master :  — 

"  I  reckon  you'll  live  through  it  —  if  you  don't 
go !  If  we'd  been  here  forty  or  fifty  years  and 
heard  all  this  talk  about  the  river  changing  its  bed, 
you  might  testify;  but,  being  as  we  are  newcomers 
and  got  no  int'rest  either  way,  I  think  you'd  better 
keep  still." 

"  I  can't  keep  still  if  they  s'peeny  me,"  Burling- 
ham protested  helplessly. 

"  Yes  you  can.  Plenty  of  people  don't  go  when 
their  s'peenied.  I  wouldn't,  not  if  all  the  courts  in 
the  country  done  it." 

Burlingham  made  no  attempt  at  reply  but  drum- 
68 


HELEN  69 

med  nervously  on  the  floor  with  an  orange  wood 
stick  that  he  had  whittled  into  a  cane.  The  conver- 
sation caused  a  little  ripple  of  uneasiness  in  Helen's 
mind  but  she  was  of  a  trusting  nature,  and  when 
the  hound  sprang  forward  and  whined  about  her 
feet  she  forgot  the  episode  and  frolicked  so  noisily 
that  it  brought  Mrs.  Burlingham  to  the  door. 

"  Hello !  "  she  exclaimed  with  doubtful  cordiality. 
"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  'light  from  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  just  got  homesick,"  Helen  answered ; 
"  I've  been  thinking  so  much  lately  about  the  place 
that  I  couldn't  stay  away  any  longer.  I  wanted 
to  see  old  Joe  and  the  graves,  and  Nero.  Is  every- 
thing going  on  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes, —  praise  the  Lord !  "  returned  Mrs. 
Burlingham,  her  piety  suddenly  coming  to  the  sur- 
face and  giving  her  a  sort  of  "  blotting  out  of  sins  " 
expression.  "  The  Lord  cares  for  his  own.  The 
climate  seems  to  agree  well  enough  with  pap. 
There  ain't  any  storms  to  speak  of,  and  we  always 
have  a  little  ahead." 

"  And  Joe, —  how  is  he  ?  "  Helen  asked  anxiously, 
after  looking  about  for  the  Indian. 

"  He's  well  enough,  I  reckon.  He  don't  stay  here 
so  reg'lar  as  he  did.  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see 
what  good  he  does  —  pottering  around." 

"  Oh,"  Helen  cried  in  alarm,  "  where  does  he 
go  ?  He  has  no  home  but  this  ?  " 

"  I  don't  pay  much  attention  to  such  folks  — 
but  the  children  say  he  camps  down  under  the  Three 
Trees." 

They  were  interrupted  by  Mary  Jane,  who  came 


70  HELEN 

bounding  in  at  the  door,  her  shoes  tied  together 
over  her  arm,  and  her  hat  pushed  to  the  back  of 
her  neck. 

"  Ma,"  she  shouted,  "  I  said  every  bit  of  my  verse 
without  a  mistake !  " 

Burlingham  looked  at  his  daughter  with  pride 
and  affection. 

"  Mary  Jane's  going  to  be  a  scholar, —  Mary  Jane 
is!  She  learns  so  easy." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  speak  to  Miss  Andrews," 
interrupted  the  mother.  Mary  Jane  began  to  chew 
the  string  of  her  hat. 

Helen's  strong  arm  felt  like  reaching  out  to  the 
awkward  girl  and  dragging  her  up  to  a  higher  level. 

"It  is  a  more  hopeful  field  for  missionary  work 
than  society  at  Buena  Vista,"  she  said  to  herself 
as  she  saw  Mary  Jane  put  on  a  gingham  apron  and 
begin  to  help  her  mother  with  the  cooking. 

The  rooms  that  Helen  had  reserved  for  herself 
opened  upon  the  wide  veranda,  which  rambled  about 
three  sides  of  the  old  adobe  house.  It  was  here, 
more  than  within  doors,  that  the  greater  part  of  her 
life  had  been  spent.  Here  old  Joe  had  poured 
myth  after  myth  into  her  receptive  ears,  and  her 
father  and  mother  had  held  her  in  loving  embrace. 
As  she  unlocked  the  door  and  threw  open  the  win- 
dow, she  seemed  to  hear  their  voices  and  to  see  their 
jubilant  faces. 

But  the  absence  of  old  Joe  worried  her,  and,  go- 
ing back  to  the  kitchen,  she  inquired  of  the  children 
concerning  him. 

"  He  is  down  by  the  Three  Trees.     We  saw  him 


HELEN  71 

as  we  came  home  from  Sunday  school,"  said  Mary 
Jane. 

Helen  put  on  her  sunbonnet  and  went  out  into 
the  narrow  trail  that  led  down  to  the  sycamores. 

She  found  the  Indian,  sitting  on  the  ground,  near 
a  rude,  improvised  shelter.  "  Come  back  to  the 
house  with  me,"  she  said.  "  It  is  not  home  without 
you." 

Joe  uttered  no  word,  but  Helen  could  see,  as  he 
painfully  arose  and  followed  her,  that  great  sorrow 
had  come  upon  him  during  her  absence.  When 
they  reached  the  veranda,  he  took  his  seat  beside 
her  door  and  slowly  a  look  of  peace  settled  on  his 
worn  features. 

"  See,"  said  Helen,  pointing  to  the  great  red 
olla.  "  It  is  neglected  and  dry." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Joe.  "  The  cool  drip  of  the 
water  makes  good  music." 

He  took  the  olla  down  and  filled  it  at  the  pump; 
then  after  hanging  it  back  on  the  hook,  repeated, 
"  The  drip-drip-drip  and  the  presence  of  those  'we 
love." 

That  night  the  stillness  wrapped  Helen  close  and 
she  slept  sweetly.  In  the  morning,  donning  an  old 
dress  and  heavy  boots,  she  set  out  to  look  about  the 
place.  It  was.  delightful  to  her  to  see  the  cow 
chewing  the  cud  and  the  proud  young  Minorca 
rooster,  with1  his  white  ears,  strutting  about  the 
yard. 

"  I  have  come  back  to  you,  and  you,  and  you, 
little  pigs,"  she  said,  pointing  delightedly  to  each. 

But  when   she  went   a   little   further   afield   and 


72  HELEN 

found  Billy  Burlingham  trying  to  plow,  with  Mandy 
Jones  hitched  beside  a  heavy  old  work  horse,  she 
realized  that  her  missionary  labors  must  begin  at 
once.  It  was  a  pathetic  sight  to  see  Billy,  with  the 
lines  tied  behind  his  back,  jerking  and  whipping 
the  poor  little  bronco  and  trying  to  hold  her  steady 
against  the  lumbering  beast  at  her  side.  Both 
horses  were  worried  and  neither  doing  credit  to  the 
hour.  The  dumb  knowledge  of  her  degradation  was 
written  in  every  line  of  Mandy's  body.  The  mys- 
terious curse  that  lies  upon  the  enslaved,  seemed  to 
have  struck  at  her  and  demanded  more  than  she 
could  give. 

"  Mandy's  no  good,"  said  Billy  as  Helen  came 
within  speaking  distance.  "  If  I  had  another  horse 
as  good  as  mine,  I'd  make  things  hum  —  you  bet  I 
would!" 

"Poor  Mandy,"  returned  Helen,  laying  a  caress- 
ing hand  on  the  bronco,  "  she  belongs  to  an  era  when 
nobody  plowed  —  an  age  when  the  herder  rode  wild 
and  reckless  over  the  range." 

"  I've  heard  tell  of  them  cow-boys  and  their 
broncos;  but  back  east,  where  I  come  from,  they 
didn't  have  no  such  stock." 

A  little  flash  came  into  Helen's  eye,  and  she  said : 
"  There  are  plenty  of  other  horses  on  the  ranch. 
Can't  you  break  one  more  suited  to  your  work  ?  " 

"Break  one.  No,"  retorted  Billy,  "that  takes 
time  —  and  I  hain't  got  no  time !  " 

Helen  saw  the  hopelessness  of  arguing  with  him, 
—  saw  that  in  the  nature  of  things  this  raw  boy 
from  back  east  could  not  understand  what  she  meant, 


HELEN  73 

so  she  stepped  up  to  the  traces,  unhooked  them,  and 
led  Mandy  toward  the  barn. 

Billy  was  amazed.  He  watched  until  they  were 
out  of  sight  with  some  hope  that  Mandy  would  kick 
or  run  away,  then  he  unhitched  the  old  horse,  turned 
him  into  the  pasture,  and  went  around  to  the  side 
of  the  house  where  he  was  most  likely  to  find  his 
father.  There  he  gave  a  low  whistle  —  a  secret 
signal  between  himself  and  his  parent  —  which 
meant  that  there  was  something  to  communicate, 
not  intended  for  his  mother's  ear.  Burlingham 
heard  and  understood  and  met  his  son  under  a  lemon 
tree  near  the  kitchen-door. 

"  See  here,  pap,"  Billy  began,  "  if  that  girl's  go- 
ing to  run  this  ranch,  we  might  as  well  move  on 
again.  I  won't  have  no  woman  telling  me  what  to 
do  —  not  by  a  long  shot.  I'll — " 

The  conversation  was  broken  off  by  Mrs.  Burling- 
ham's  throwing  a  panful  of  dish-water  dangerously 
near  them.  They  moved  out  of  range,  and  Billy 
went  on, — 

"  I'll  leave.  I've  stood  a  lot  of  things  in  my  life, 
but  I  won't  let  no  woman  boss  me." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I'd  say  that,  Billy.  You 
know  how  it  is  with  women  —  they  don't  mean  noth- 
ing. I  used  to  think  they  did,  but  late  years  I've 
give  it  up.  You  see  —  you  have  to  git  used  to 
them,"  his  father  said  pacifically. 

Billy  was  still  unreconciled.  He  argued  for  a 
little  while,  then  walked  wrathfully  toward  the 
kitchen,  leaving  his  father  much  worried.  Burling- 
ham did  not  know  whether  to  continue  the  subject 


74  HELEN 

or  not.  He  had  great  faith  in  his  wife's  ability 
—  either  to  quell  a  riot  or  to  incite  one  —  but  he 
could  not  feel  sure  how  she  might  act  if  told  what 
had  happened  in  the  field.  For  an  hour  he  hung 
about  with  a  dull  prescience  of  trouble  in  his  face; 
but  at  last  Billy  went  out,  and  he  said : 

"  Ma,  we'll  kind  of  have  to  watch  Billy.  I'm 
afraid  he'll  sass  Helen  when  she  comes  back.  He's 
awful  mad !  " 

"  Go  along,  you  old  gump,"  answered  his  wife, 
sweeping  the  crumbs  from  under  the  table  at  him. 
"  You're  always  imagining  things." 

At  this  Mary  Jane,  who  chanced  to  stand  near, 
drew  her  father's  hand  toward  her  in  mute  recogni- 
tion of  his  weakness.  "  You're  just  the  sweetest, 
old  pap,"  she  whispered. 

"  What's  the  matter,  anyway,"  asked  Mrs.  Bur- 
lingham,  relenting  a  little.  "  If  there's  any  trou- 
ble, I  guess  Billy  can  take  care  of  himself !  " 

"  It's  about  that  little  bronco  of  her'n.  She 
won't  let  Billy  use  it,"  said  Burlingham,  greatly  re- 
lieved at  being  unloaded  of  his  secret. 

"  There  ain't  no  time  to  be  throwed  away  in  that 
kind  of  a  fuss,"  firmly  asserted  Mrs.  Burlingham. 
"  If  Billy  can't  plow  with  Mandy,  he  can  take  some 
other  horse.  There's  plenty  of  them  in  the  field." 

This  wise  decision  was  like  light  in  a  dark  place. 
It  relieved  the  tension  all  round ;  but  ended  in 
Billy  having  a  good  cry.  First,  he  cried  because 
he  was  angry;  second,  because  he  thought  himself 
abused,  and,  third,  because  he  was  ashamed  of  him- 
self. 


H  E  L  E  1ST  75 

Burlingham  had  hardly  reckoned  on  so  much 
docility  from  his  son.  There  were  not  many  con- 
nected links  in  the  boy's  thinking  and,  generally, 
when  he  was  angry,  no  amount  of  persuasion  could 
soothe  him.  But  this  time  he  assented  readily 
enough  to  his  father's  suggestion  that  they  take  the 
old  horse  and  go  over  to  Joe  Baker's. 

"  You're  tired,  Billy.  Just  let's  stop  and  take  a 
ride,"  his  father  said. 

Before  they  started,  Burlingham  went  back  to 
the  kitchen  and  whispered  in  his  wife's  ear :  "  It 
appears  to  me  that  the  trouble  is  over  for  this  time. 
But  if  Helen  gets  Billy's  temper  up  again,  there's 
no  knowing  what'll  happen." 

All  this  storm  had  blown  over  before  Helen  re- 
turned from  her  walk,  and  she  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  tempest  she  had  caused.  Her  falling  out  with 
Billy  Burlingham,  however,  was  soon  neighborhood 
gossip.  He  told  it  to  Joe  Baker's  boys.  They  told 
it  to  the  butcher  on  his  rounds  and  Smith's  folks,  as 
they  drove  past,  stopped  at  John  Stanford's  to  re- 
peat it,  adding  by  way  of  inquiry, 

"  That  girl's  not  very  easy  to  get  along  with,  any- 
way ? " 

This  innuendo  John  denied  with  so  much  earn- 
estness that  the  Smiths  winked  knowingly  at  each 
other  and  winked  again  when  he  asked  if  Helen 
had  come  home  to  stay. 

"  I  haven't  been  up  there,"  Smith  replied,  "  but 
some  of  the  school  children  told  Jones's  that  she 
was  back  on  the  ranch,  all  right." 

After  the   Smiths  had  gone  on,   "  Doc."   Stoner 


70  HELE1ST 

burst  in  with  the  information  that  Helen  had  tired 
of  the  city  and  was  back  on  the  ranch. 

"  I  was  up  there  to  see  about  borrowing  a  plow 
and  it's  inspiring  the  way  she's  straightening  things 
out.  But  she'll  have  a  picnic,  if  she  tries  to  boss 
Billy.  Old  Burlingham  is  sickly,  you  know,  and 
Billy  takes  after  his  mother." 

"  Did  they  say  anything  about  the  row  ? "  Stan- 
ford asked  with  concern  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes.     Billy  said  she  had  a  hell  of  a  temper." 

"Well,  Billy  — he  lied!"  responded  Stanford 
promptly. 

"  Well,  you  had  better  go  up  there  and  see  if  she 
needs  you.  If  I  had  a  girl,  I  would  take  care  of 
her!" 

After  "  Doc."  Stoner  had  gone,  John  Stanford 
fell  into  a  state  of  activity  quite  unusual.  He  led 
his  best  saddle  horse  out  of  the  barn  and,  with 
curry  comb  and  brush,  began  taking  the  cockle  burrs 
from  its  mane  and  tail.  Tangle  after  tangle  was 
so  matted  together  that  nothing  short  of  cutting  the 
hair  would  allow  the  comb  to  pass  through;  but 
when  at  last,  he  adjusted  the  saddle  and  bridle  and 
led  the  horse  out  to  the  hitching-post,  it  looked  like 
another  animal. 

To  no  one  did  he  confide  the  flattering  hopes  that 
prompted  him  to  do  all  this:  to  no  one  did  he  give  a 
hint  of  the  new  joy  that  lighted  up  his  countenance, 
but  in  his  heart  it  seemed  almost  prophetic  that 
Helen  should  have  had  a  misunderstanding  with 
Billy  at  the  very  outset  of  her  coming  home.  It 
began  to  look  as  though  she  really  needed  help. 


HELEN  77 

And  he  needed  a  wife  —  a  wife  to  cook  and  sweep 
and  feed  the  chickens.  He  saw  no  reason  why  they 
should  not  join  hands  and  together  make  a  reason- 
ably comfortable  life-voyage  of  it.  He  admitted  to 
himself  that  Helen  might  have  eccentricities,  which 
he  should  be  obliged  to  root  out;  but  as  he  was 
entirely  sure  of  the  superiority  of  the  masculine 
mind,  he  had  no  doubt  that  he  could  bring  her 
around  to  his  ways.  Once  or  twice  it  occurred  to 
him  that  the  advances  already  made  in  that  direc- 
tion had  not  thriven  as  well  as  he  could  wish;  but 
perhaps  love  was  a  plant  needing  much  cultivation ; 
perhaps  it  must  be  hoed  and  raked  and  watered  with 
more  patience. 

The  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs  on  the  hard  ground 
was  music  in  his  ears.  As  he  struck  the  trail  half 
a  mile  below  the  Three  Trees  he  let  a  coyote  go 
without  shooting  at  it,  an  act  quite  unlike  the  John 
Stanford  of  every  day.  When  nearing  Helen's 
home  he  became  conscious  that  his  collar  was  not  in 
the  best  of  condition,  and  wondered  why  the  great 
bank  of  fog  which  iTSually  drifts  landward  in  the 
afternoon  had  not  come  to  cool  the  air.  As  he  came 
near  the  house  he  took  out  a  handkerchief  and  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  neck;  then  rode  boldly  up 
to  the  gate. 

Helen  saw  him  and  arose  to  meet  him. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Stanford,  it  seems  like  old  times  to 
see  you,"  she  said.  "  I  supposed  you  had  forgotten 
all  about  me  by  this  time." 

"  There  ain't  no  danger  of  my  forgetting  about 
you,"  he  replied  so  significantly  that  Helen  saw  at 


78  HELEN 

once  she  was  trenching  on  dangerous  ground  and 
hastened  to  change  the  subject.  She  did  not  ana- 
lyze his  symptoms,  as  one  accustomed  to  the  malady 
of  love  might  have  done;  but  she  led  him  to  the 
side  of  the  veranda  where  Mary  Jane  was  sitting 
and  began  to  talk  about  the  weather. 

John  glared  at  her  suspiciously,  all  the  tangled 
facts  and  fancies  in  his  brain  crying  out  against 
this  action.  As  he  took  his  seat  on  the  bench,  Mrs. 
Burlingham  appeared  on  the  scene  with  a  pan  of 
water  for  the  chickens. 

"  'Pears  to  me,"  she  was  saying,  "  that  the  chick- 
ens drink  all  the  time  this  weather.  'Pears  to 
me — "  she  broke  off  abruptly  and  reached  out  her 
unemployed  hand. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Stanford,  I  didn't  know  you  was 
here!  How  do  you  do." 

"  How  do  you  do,"  stammered  the  man.  "  I 
heard  from  some  of  the  neighbors  that  you  was  ail- 
ing." 

"  Oh,  I'm,  middling.  Some  days  I'm  plum  give 
out,  and  then  agin,  I  git  'round  right  smart." 

Just  then  Burlingham  wriggled  his  skinny  hand 
in  between  them  and  said,  "  Shake !  and  then  come 
into  the  house.  It's  awful  hot  out  here.  I've  heard 
of  folks  being  took  down  with  the  heat  and  having 
trouble  with  their  brains." 

"  There  ain't  no  danger  of  your  having  trouble 
that  way,"  interrupted  his  better-half. 

"  Pap's  all  right,"  interposed  Mary  Jane,  with 
wonderful  comprehension  of  the  situation,  "  ain't 
you,  dear  old  pap  ?  " 


Burlington's  pale  face  lighted  up  at  his  daughter's 
affectionate  defense  and  he  said  gratefully: — 

"  She's  got  an  awful  big  heart,  Mary  Jane  has," 
and  as  Mrs.  Burlingham  passed  beyond  hearing,  he 
continued,  "  she'll  make  a  good  wife  for  some  man, 
Mary  Jane  will !  " 

John  Stanford  was  not  in  a  mood  to  turn  his 
thoughts  to  Mary  Jane,  but  as  the  whole  party  ac- 
cepted Bturlingham's  invitation  to  move  into  the 
house,  he  joined  them  and  entered  upon  the  topics 
of  conversation  that  arose. 

"  How's  your  alfalfy  ? "  inquired  Burlingham 
with  neighborly  interest,  to  which  Stanford  an- 
swered stiffly: 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right.  Of  course  we  can  conjure 
up  a  lot  of  trouble  about  gophers  and  such  like,  but 
I'm  not  one  of  the  worrying  kind !  " 

"  I'm  not  much  used  to  alfalfy,"  said  Burling- 
ham ;  "  we  raised  mostly  corn  back  in  Kansas." 

"  We  never  raised  nothing,"  put  in  his  wife  dep- 
recratingly.  "  We  never  staid  in  one  place  long 
enough." 

Then  Billy  complained  about  the  climate,  and 
Mrs.  Burlingham  rehearsed  her  ailments,  and  it  was 
nine  o'clock  when  Stanford,  having  had  no  oppor- 
tunity to  come  anywhere  near  the  object  of  his  visit, 
went  out  to  the  stable  for  his  horse.  He  felt  it  a 
dreary  thing  to  ride  home  without  having  said  a 
word  of  what  he  intended  to  Helen,  especially  as  the 
idea  lodged  itself  in  his  brain  that  she  was  trying 
to  keep  the  Burlinghams  between  herself  and  him. 

He  thought  he  had  never  known  the  road  so  long 


80  HELEN 

or  the  howling  of  the  coyotes  so  weird  and  mourn- 
ful. As  he  passed  his  orchard  he  saw  that  the  cow 
had  pulled  up  her  stake  and  was  hooking  some 
young  trees.  This  added  to  his  annoyance.  He 
got  off  his  horse,  roughly  caught  the  dangling  ropo 
and  jerked  the  poor  beast  up  to  the  corral  fence, 
nearly  upsetting  a  hen  that  was  brooding  over  a 
dozen  newly-hatched  chickens. 

"  That's  right,"  he  snarled,  "  now  kill  a  chicken 
and  I'll  smash  your  head  fer  you." 


CHAPTEE  X 

HELEN  had  not  been  many  days  at  home  before 
she  realized  that  there  was  a  great  accumulation  of 
little  nothings  to  be  done  on  the  ranch.  Especially 
were  the  children  in  need  of  oversight  as  they  went 
tearing  about  the  place  carrying  with  them  parts  of 
harness,  rakes,  plow-shares  and  in  fact  anything  that 
they  could  utilize  in  their  play.  Mrs.  Burlingham 
was  too  much  occupied  with  rehearsing  her  ailments 
to  give  much  heed  to  the  wasteful  habits  of  her  off- 
spring. She  preferred  quoting  passages  of  scrip- 
ture which  seemed  always  to  be  at  her  tongue's  end. 

"  There'll  be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth," 
she  said  one  day,  as  Helen  went  into  the  kitchen  to 
render  some  kindly  assistance. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "  to  think 
such  dreadful  thoughts." 

But  Mrs.  Burlingham  continued,  "  I  suppose 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  forgiveness  of  sins,  but  I 
believe  in  retribution.  It  looks  reasonable." 

Eor  the  moment  Helen's  patience  threatened  to 
give  way,  but  she  soon  concluded  that  Mrs.  Burling- 
ham and  the  children  had  claims  upon  her  to  which 
she  must  respond.  The  result  was  that  instead  of 
long  rides  and  hours  of  sketching,  there  were  days 
at  a  time  when  the  eternal  grind  of  things  seemed 

81 


82  HELEN 

to  lay  hold  upon  her  and  compel  her  whithersoever 
it  pleased.  Sometimes  she  looked  wearily  upon  her 
self-imposed  task,  sometimes  her  great  desire  to 
paint  seemed  to  call  her  back  to  nature.  She  had 
not  come  far  enough  along  in  art  to  understand  that 
Mrs.  Burlingham  frying  bacon,  and  the  children 
racing  across  the  floor  on  all-fours  were  paintable, 
else  she  might  have  posed  them  in  groups  and  con- 
tinued her  studies,  or  she  might  have  modeled  a 
relief  of  the  butter  that  she  always  had  to  work  over 
after  Mrs.  Burlingham's  untidy  hands.  As  neither 
of  these  things  occurred  to  her  she  continued  to  labor 
where  she  seemed  most  needed. 

Nor  were  her  operations  confined  to  the  house. 
Teaching  Mary  Jane  how  to  cook  frijoles  one  hour 
was  followed  the  next  by  helping  Billy  break  a  colt, 
or  by  holding  down  a  calf's  head  while  it  learned  to 
drink.  Old  Joe  who  had  always  been  about  to  as- 
sist at  such  work  now  absented  himself  for  days  at 
a  time,  seeking  food  after  his  own  fashion  or  lying 
on  his  back  visible  or  invisible  in  the  mustard.  Oc- 
casionally the  Indian  came  back  and  gathered  up 
the  scattered  tools  or  sat  for  a  time  on  the  veranda, 
but  at  a  hint  from  Mrs.  Burlingham  he  disappeared 
again.  These  worries  Helen  faced  by  turns,  laugh- 
ing and  crying,  until  one  day  something  more  seri- 
ous came  to  occupy  her  thoughts. 

Two  men  drove  up  to  the  gate  and,  after  shaking 
the  dust  from  their  clothing,  walked  with  a  business- 
like air  to  the  veranda  and  inquired  for  Miss  An- 
drews. 

Mrs.  Burlingham  dragged  out  a  couple  of  chairs 


HELEN  83 

and  invited  them  to  be  seated,  at  the  same  time  say- 
ing: 

"  She  went  over  to  Serrano  to  get  the  mail.  But 
she'll  be  back  soon.  She  rode  the  bronco,  and  it 
goes  right  smart." 

Mark  Watkins  took  a  chair,  while  his  friend, 
Hank  Austin,  sat  somewhat  awkwardly  upon  the 
bench,  from  beneath  which  Nero  looked  out  with 
sharp,  suspicious  eyes. 

"  You  ain't  going  back  right  away,  be  ye  ? "  in- 
quired Mrs.  Burlingham. 

"  No,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "  we  must  wait  for 
Miss  Andrews." 

"  You  better  put  your  horse  in  the  barn,  then, 
and  feed  him,"  she  suggested,  "  for  I  reckon  you've 
come  all  .the  way  from  Los  Angeles." 

"  Yes,  we  have  had  a  long  and  dusty  drive,"  Mr. 
Watkins  responded. 

"  The  men  folks  are  in  the  field,  but  I  reckon 
you  can  find  the  way  to  the  barn.  There's  plenty 
of  feed  there." 

Mr.  Watkins  acted  upon  her  invitation  and 
started  down  the  path,  requesting  his  companion  to 
bring  the  horse. 

As  a  professional  witness,  purveyor  of  documents, 
and  as  a  detective,  Mr.  Austin  had  had  many  years' 
experience,  and  could,  if  the  court  permitted,  com- 
bine all  of  these  offices  and  become  at  once  the 
individual  upon  whom  the  fate  of  a  law-suit  de- 
pended. 

"  You  know  what  kind  of  testimony  I  want  in 
this  case,"  Mr.  Watkins  said,  as  the  man  drove  up, 


84  HELEN 

"  and  you  may  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  camp 
right  here  until  you  get  it." 

"  Yes,"  Austin  returned,  "  I've  been  here  before 
—  when  Andrews  was  alive.  Do  you  remember  ? 
He  testified  in  the  O'Donnell  case." 

"Yes.  But  that  was  different.  The  title  to  the 
whole  of  this  young  woman's  property  is  involved 
and  I  am  personally  interested.  The  estate  is  in 
probate  and  never  can  be  settled  until  the  cloud  is 
off  the  title." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  yes,  I  know,"  Austin  repeated  as 
he  unhitched  the  horse,  hung  the  harness  on  a  peg, 
and  measured  out  a  couple  of  quarts  of  barley  for 
the  tired  animal. 

From  behind  the  curtain  of  the  pantry  window, 
Mrs.  Burlingham  and  Mary  Jane  watched  the 
strangers  with  keen  interest. 

"  I'll  bet  you,"  Mrs.  Burlingham  confided  to  her 
daughter,  "  them's  lawyers !  We  never  had  noth- 
ing, so  we  never  knowed  many ;  but  I  just  bet  them's 
lawyers." 

When  the  two  men  had  returned  and  seated  them- 
selves again  upon  the  veranda,  Mrs.  Burlingham  re- 
signed her  office  as  cook  to  Mary  Jane,  and,  drag- 
ging another  chair  out,  sat  down  to  entertain  her 
guests  with  the  news  of  the  neighborhood. 

"  We're  having  a  right  smart  camp-meeting  over 
to  Gospel  Swamp.  If  you  could  just  hear  the  sing- 
ing and  the  praying,  it  would  do  you  good." 

"  I  dare  say  it  would,"  Mark  Watkins  returned 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Austin  here  needs 
it." 


HELEK  85 

"  They're  Methodists,"  the  good  woman  contin- 
ued, "  and  I'm  a  Presbyterian.  But  still,  when  I 
can't  get  to  a  Presbyterian  meeting-house,  I  can  go 
to  most  any  kind  —  though  I  do  hold  to  the  idea  of 
total  depravity." 

Austin,  whose  business  it  was  to  gather  testimony, 
saw  at  once  that  it  was  his  cue  to  go  with  Mrs. 
Burlingham  to  the  camp-meeting,  and  there,  with 
great  saving  of  time  and  labor,  interview  the  coun- 
try people  about  the  matter  he  had  in  hand.  So 
he  expressed  interest  and  a  desire  to  attend,  which 
greatly  pleased  Mrs.  Burlingham. 

"  Yes,  it'll  do  you  good.  l  Back  east '  we  lived 
close  to  a  meeting-house  and  we  went  to  meetings 
all  the  time;  but  since  we  came  to  Californy,  it 
'pears  that  there  ain't  nothing  the  same  way  as  it 
was  there." 

Here  the  two  men  fell  into  a  discussion  involving 
terms,  which  were  quite  incomprehensible  to  Mrs. 
Burlingham,  and  that  pious  lady  went  back  to  the 
kitchen.  As  Mary  Jane  resigned  the  dish-cloth  to 
her  mother,  she  inquired, 

"Be  they?" 

"  Yes,  just  what  I  said,  lawyers,  and  it  does  'pear 
to  me  that  all  lawyers  is  rascals !  "  concluded  Mrs. 
Burlingham  suspiciously. 

When  Helen  arrived,  she  was  both  surprised  and 
embarrassed  at  seeing  her  visitors.  Her  last  inter- 
view with  Mark  Watkins  rose  painfully  in  her 
mind  and  she  lost  her  readiness  of  speech,  but  as 
the  situation  was  one  that  did  not  offer  op- 
portunity for  more  than  a  short  prelude,  Mark 


86  HELEN 

Watkins  went  straight  to  the  business  of  the  hour. 

"  I  have  come  to  explain  to  you,  Miss  Andrews, 
a  matter  which  you  must  understand  and  think 
about  and  not  be  surprised  at,  no  matter  what  hap- 
pens. I  do  not  wish  to  alarm  you;  but  it  is  my 
duty  as  your  attorney  to  state  an  important  matter 
of  business  to  you." 

He  waited  a  moment  and  then  added, 

"  There  is  a  little  trouble  about  the  title  to  your 
property.  The  change  in  the  river-bed  raises  ques- 
tions that  are  difficult  to  settle:  as  your  legal  ad- 
viser you  must  command  me,  you  must  tell  me  what 
to  do." 

"  I  am  afraid  my  judgment  would  be  very  poor, 
especially  if  the  business  is  in  the  nature  of  a  law- 
suit," Helen  replied,  all  the  hints  and  innuendoes  of 
the  Burlinghams  coming  to  her  mind. 

"  Sometimes  a  child  knows  as  well  as  the  best  of 
us  what  to  do,"  Mr.  Watkins  replied. 

His  bearing  was  respectful,  and  his  words  were 
kind. 

"You  must  tell  me  more  about  it  before  we  can 
come  to  an  understanding,"  Helen  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  "  you  must  let  me  tell  you. 
It  is  only  when  we  understand  one  another  that  we 
can  work  together." 

Here  he  drew  nearer  to  Miss  Andrews  and  pro- 
ceeded. 

"  A  suit  has  been  instituted  by  Don  Juan  Al- 
varado  against  you  and  others,  to  quiet  title  to  all 
the  lands  between  the  river,  as  it  now  lies  a  mile 
south  of  its  former  bed,  and  the  north  line  of  the 


HELEN  87 

Santa  Gertrudis  Rancho.  Alvarado's  Mexican 
grant  describes  the  land  conveyed  to  him  as  being 
bounded  on  the  south  by  the  San  Gabriel  river, 
and  it  now  becomes  a  vital  question  to  determine 
where  the  river  was  located  forty  years  ago,  when 
the  grant  was  made.  These  mountain  streams  are 
shifting,  you  know.  They  drop  sand  during  wet 
seasons  until  their  beds  are  higher  than  the  surface 
of  the  surrounding  country,  then  turn  out,  seeking 
lower  ground.  As  there  are  no  maps  or  records 
that  can  be  used  in  such  cases,  it  resolves  itself  into 
a  question  of  testimony;  and,  in  order  to  procure 
this,  every  nook  and.  corner  of  the  country  must  be 
searched." 

"  I  see,"  said  Helen,  very  calmly,  "  this  is  what 
my  father  feared  at  the  time.  He  said  it  would 
affect  the  title  to  all  the  land  lying  south  of  Don 
Alvarado's  grant  line." 

"  Yes.  Anyone  who  lives  between  the  ranch  of 
Don  Alvarado  and  the  river  has  a  cloud  upon  his 
title.  Until  the  record  can  be  made  to  show  where 
the  river  was  when  the  grant  was  made  we  are  all 
in  the  dark." 

"  I  see,"  Helen  repeated,  "  but  what  can  I  do  ? 
How  can  I  help  in  the  case  ? " 

"  I  will  leave  my  horse  and  buggy  and  between 
you  and  Mr.  Austin  you  must  visit  every  shack  for 
twenty  miles  about.  Old  letters  or  papers  are  val- 
uable, and  all  persons  who  can  remember  forty  years 
back  must  be  interviewed.  Austin  has  had  plenty 
of  experience;  he  knows  testimony  when  he  finds 
it;  but  he  needs  help.  These  fat,  suspicious  farm- 


88  HELEN 

ers  shut  up  like  clams  when  they  think  they  are 
needed  as  witnesses.  It  will  be  your  duty  to  make 
them  talk.  You  must  break  the  way,  and  then  let 
Austin  make  use  of  such  facts  as  he  thinks  best. 
It  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  do.  It  has  happened  more 
than  once  that  a  good  case  has  failed  because  the 
neighbors  were  not  willing  to  testify.  Much  liti- 
gation over  Spanish  titles  has  made  the  country 
people  wary.  It  is  this  that  we  have  to  overcome. 
Do  you  understand,  Miss  Andrews  ? " 

"  I  understand,"  she  returned,  "  but  will  not  all 
this  cause  a  neighborhood  feud,  that  may  last  for 
years  ? " 

"  Unfortunately,  we  have  had  many  quarrels  over 
boundary  lines." 

"  Is  there  no  way  to  settle  such  difficulties  amic- 
ably ?  "  Helen  inquired.  "  Securing  testimony  that 
will  set  neighbor  against  neighbor  is  not  pleasant 
work." 

"  It  is  the  only  way  that  we  know  of.  When  our 
property  is  attacked  we  must  defend  ourselves  as 
best  we  can." 

It  was  a  painful  moment  for  Helen.  She  saw 
that  the  part  she  was  to  play  must  be  great  or  small 
as  she  willed  it,  and  she  stood  firm  to  her  point. 
Mr.  Watkins  understood  but  little  of  her  scruples; 
but  some  insight  into  her  character  dawned  upon 
him  and  he  said  gently: — 

"  Do  not  let  this  trouble  worry  you,  Miss  Andrews. 
It  is  not  hopeless,  but  you  must  learn  to  deal  with 
facts  as  they  are.  All  who  take  a  hand  in  the  tur- 
moil of  life  are  compelled  to  learn  the  art  of  resist- 


HELEN"  89 

ance.  Non-resistance  is  the  ideal;  resistance  is  the 
actual.  Neither  youth  nor  old  age,  neither  houses 
nor  lands,  mov©  the  destroyer  to  spare  when  he  is 
minded  to  strike,  and  to  fight  back  is  our  only 
hope." 

His  combining  of  sacred  metaphors  with  schemes 
for  outwitting  the  country  people  moved  Helen 
strongly;  her  lips  quivered,  and  she  looked  at  him, 
as  though  his  way  of  putting  the  case  made  it  hide- 
ous. Mr.  Watkins  saw  that  she  was  wounded  — 
saw  the  nervous  twitching  of  her  face  as  she  tried 
to  answer  him  and  said: 

"  Wait  a  little  before  you  speak ;  wait  a  little. 
This  hurts  me  more  than  it  does  you." 

Then,  for  a  moment,  the  mills  of  the  gods  ceased 
to  grind.  Something  rose  in  a  flash  and  caused  his 
heart  to  swell  with  honorable  emotion.  As  he 
looked  down  into  the  girlish  face,  he  felt  as  never 
before  the  glory  of  her  deep-set  eyes,  the  breadth 
of  her  forehead,  the  unconscious  poise  of  her 
body. 

When  he  began  to  speak  again,  he  seemed  to  care 
little  what  he  said,  so  long  as  he  eased  in  some  de- 
gree the  pain  and  anxiety  that  he  had  caused.  It 
was  fortunate  for  him  that  the  train  for  the  city 
was  due  at  three  o'clock  and  that  it  was  now  half- 
past  two;  for  he  felt  that  every  moment  was  bring- 
ing him  to  a  critical  moment  in  his  life.  He  called 
Austin  and  asked  that  he  walk  with  him  to  the  sta- 
tion. As  he  said  good-bye  to  Helen  he  took  her 
hand,  and,  in  an  ecstacy  of  love,  whispered : 

"  Put  me  in  your  prayers,  now  and  then,  little 


90  HELEN 

one !  I  think  I  need  your  help  more  than  you  need 
mine." 

Then,  taking  his  companion  by  the  arm,  the  two 
men  took  the  trail  that  led  across  the  field  to  the 
little  railway  station.  It  was  not  until  the  cha- 
parral hid  the  house  from  view  that  the  mills  of  the 
gods  again  began  to  grind.  ~Not  until  they  were 
well  out  of  sight  of  Helen,  who  stood  upon  the 
veranda  watching,  did  Mark  Watkins  begin  to  dis- 
cuss again  the  business  that  had  brought  him  there. 
But  finally  the  difficulties  and  uncertainties  of  the 
case  brought  back  to  him  the  lurid  glare  of  his 
genius,  and  he  began  to  talk  plainly  of  the  means  by 
which  testimony  could  be  procured. 

"  If  any  man  has  an  itching  palm,"  he  said  to 
Mr.  Austin,  "  you  must  anoint  it.  If  any  man's 
testimony  is  dangerous,  you  must  stop  his  mouth, 
if  need  be,  with  money. 

"  There  is  another  thing  to  be  borne  in  mind. 
We  have  a  Spanish  judge  on  the  bench,  and,  of 
course,  his  sympathies  will  be  with  the  Alvarados. 
This  means  that  we  must  lay  the  foundations  for  a 
change  of  venue.  He  will  not  grant  it,  but  we 
must  compel  him.  It  can  be  done  by  proving  that 
he  has  vested  rights  along  the  river.  Go  even  so 
far  as  to  trace  the  property  rights  of  his  sisters,  his 
cousins,  and  his  aunts.  Any  circumstance  tending 
to  show  that  he  is  an  interested  party  will  disqual- 
ify him  for  trying  the  case.  If  I  can  get  the  mer- 
est rag  of  fact  to  hang  a  change  of  venue  upon,  I 
shall  attempt  it,  for  the  whole  case  may  hinge  upon 
his  sympathy  with  his  own  race." 


HELEN  91 

After  these  elaborate  instructions,  the  lawyer 
looked  keenly  at  his  associate  and  said,  "  Of  course, 
you  know  that  our  wrong-doing  must  be  strictly 
legal;  it  must  not  even  touch  upon  crime." 

"  I  understand  that,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Austin. 
"  You  ought  to  know  by  this  time  that  you  can 
trust  me  to  keep  things  straight,  so  far  as  violation 
of  law  is  concerned." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  I  have  no  fear  on  that  score,  but 
the  case  is  going  to  be  a  hard  one  and  we  must  win 
at  any  cost.  To  do  so,  certain  testimony  I  need,  and 
that  must  be  forthcoming." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  his  face  was  a  revelation 
of  shrewdness.  The  bear,  the  tiger,  the  beast  were 
all  back  in  his  eye, —  while  the  lines  across  his  fore- 
head were  deep  and  jagged.  He  turned  away  from 
Austin  and  looked  toward  the  place  where  he  had 
left  Helen. 

The  deluge  had  not  swept  him  quite  off  his  feet. 
The  sweet  influence  of  the  girl  clung  to  him  yet. 
He  stepped  out  of  the  path  and  stood  beside  a  clump 
of  sage.  As  he  did  so,  his  feet  touched  something 
and  before  he  could  see  what  it  was  a  gray  bird 
fluttered  its  soft  bat-like  wings  before  him  and 
dropped  down  into  the  brush  only  a  few  feet  away. 
It  made  not  the  slightest  sound,  but  from  beneath 
his  feet  there  came  a  faint  scratching  against  his 
shoe.  He  shivered,  and,  stooping,  saw  that  he  had 
trodden  on  a  nest,  and  that  the  wretched  little  birds 
were  moving  about  in  blind  terror. 

"  Great  heavens !  "  he  cried,  "  have  I  broken  the 
charm  of  one  of  nature's  holy  places  ?  "  - 


92  H  E  L  E  N 

As  he  looked  upon  the  fledgelings,  the  image  of 
two  women  reeled  through  his  brain.  One  was 
Helen, —  the  other  was  a  dark  woman,  with  jet- 
black  eyes, —  the  latter  seeming  to  be  personified  by 
the  stricken  things  at  his  feet. 

"  My  God !  "  he  thought,  "  what  tragic,  tormenting 
riddle  is  it  that  drives  me  at  one  moment  into  heaven 
and  at  the  next  into  hell  ? " 


CHAPTER  XI 

SOME  little  idea  had  Helen  of  the  position  she 
occupied.  Some  little  idea  had  she  of  the  procedure 
that  must  be  gone  through  with  in  order  to  clear  up 
the  title  to  her  estate;  but  glimpses  of  a  more  just 
way  than  that  of  Mr.  Watkins'  crowded  into  her 
mind.  If  the  river  had  changed  its  bed  why  not 
call  a  meeting  and  invite  all  the  neighbors  to  dis- 
cuss the  matter.  This  would  bring  out  the  facts 
and  prevent  private  misunderstandings. 

When  Mr.  Austin  returned  from  the  station,  she 
questioned  him  timidly,  rather  as  one  asking  a  favor 
than  as  one  having  a  right  to  know,  and  his  an- 
swers confirmed  her  in  the  belief  that  the  case  as  it 
stood  was  a  menace  to  the  well  being  of  the  commu- 
nity. In  all  that  he  said  there  was  a  caution  and 
reserve  that  boded  ill  for  his  honesty.  Armed  with 
the  mollifying  ointment  of  a  deferential  manner,  he 
seemed  to  avoid  the  truth,  as  he  talked  and  to  aim 
at  secrecy. 

They  were  still  discussing  the  business  when  John 
Stanford  drove  up  and  hitched  his  horse  outside  the 
gate.  He  had  heard  of  Mr.  Watkins'  visit,  and 
had  come  over  to  obtain  what  information  he  might 
concerning  the  case.  As  he  walked  up  to  the  ve- 
randa, he  heard  Helen  and  Mr.  Austin  talking  and 
gathered  that  the  subject  under  discussion  was  the 

93 


94  HELEN 

lawsuit.  When  Helen  had  introduced  her  neigh- 
bor, the  two  men  entered  upon  a  resume  of  the  case. 
John  Stanford  assumed  that  there  was  nothing  what- 
ever to  worry  about. 

"  Of  course,  it  ain't  much  of  a  case,"  he  asserted 
cheerfully.  "  Nobody  can  tell  me  where  the  corners 
of  my  land  are ;  I  wouldn't  allow  it." 

"  But  questions  about  boundary  lines  are  always 
troublesome,"  remarked  Mr.  Austin.  And,  with  the 
scent  of  possible  commissions,  he  advised  the  young 
man  to  employ  Mr.  Watkins  as  his  attorney. 

"  Join  with  Miss  Andrews ;  the  testimony  in  one 
case  will  cover  the  other  and  we  can  work  together." 

Although  John  Stanford  did  not  think  it  was 
much  of  a  case  he  was  pleased  at  the  suggestion  to 
employ  Mark  Watkins  and  to  work  in  company  with 
Mr.  Austin  and  Helen.  It  was  much  to  his  liking, 
especially  as  Helen's  home  seemed  to  be  the  center 
from  which  all  this  brilliant  business  would  radi- 
ate. He  looked  at  the  young  girl  in  admiring  be- 
wilderment, expecting  her  approval;  but  her  face 
did  not  show  the  enthusiasm  he  had  anticipated. 
He  entered,  however,  into  a  spirited  discussion  with 
Austin,  in  which  he  showed  a  considerable  knowl- 
edge of  metes  and  bounds. 

"  I  have  measured  my  land  with  my  mother's 
clothes  line,  and  am  willing  to  swear  that  the  north- 
west corner  comes  up  with  Don  Alvarado's  fence. 
It  wouldn't  make  any  difference  to  me  what  a  court 
decided,"  he  declared  stoutly.  "  When  I  know  a 
thing,  I  Iniow  it  —  know  it  better  than  any  judge 
does.  Lots  of  judges  don't  understand  the  law,"  he 


HELEN  95 

continued,  confounding  law  and  fact,  and  then, 
warming  up  to  his  subject,  he  added,  "  there's  only 
a  durned  few  of  them  that  does !  " 

In  spite  of  the  inadequacy  of  his  remarks,  Helen 
smiled  at  him  and  said: 

"  You  have  done  better  than  I : —  I  have  no  idea 
at  all  where  my  corners  are.  I  know  more  about 
my  water-right.  I  helped  to  lay  some  of  the  pipe ; 
don't  you  remember  that  second-hand  pipe  with 
rusty  threads  that  would  not  catch  ?  And  I  know 
about  shutting  the  headgate  when  it  rains,"  she 
went  on,  "  and  about  the  warping  of  the  flume  when 
it  is  dry;  but  about  the  corners  and  the  description 
in  the  deed,  dear  me  —  I  have  thought  nothing  at 
all  about  them." 

That  Helen  should  defer  to  his  superior  knowl- 
edge in  the  matter  of  corners,  flattered  John  Stan- 
ford. It  seemed  to  him  not  so  bad  that  there  should 
be  trouble  over  the  boundary  line,  since  he  and 
Helen  were  on  the  same  side  of  the  fence.  Per- 
haps, after  all,  the  course  of  his  love  might  now 
begin  to  run  smoothly,  at  any  rate,  he  was  quite 
willing  to  leave  his  work  and  ransack  the  neighbor- 
hood with  Mr.  Austin  in  search  of  testimony. 

"  It's  still  early,"  Austin  said.  "  Let's  go  to 
camp-meeting  to-night;  there  we  can  interview  a 
number  of  people  with  very  little  trouble.  We  can 
harness  Mr.  Watkins'  horse  and  get  over  there  be- 
fore dark." 

Stanford,  big  with  importance,  agreed  heartily. 
"  Let's  get  over  there  and  make  things  hum !  " 

As  the  two  men  went  toward  the  barn,   Helen 


96  HELEN 

watched  them  with  a  good  deal  of  consternation. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  the  plan  of  going  to  the  camp- 
meeting  was  detestably  clever.  She  had  a  notion 
that  camp-meeting  was  not  just  the  place  to  go  to 
stir  up  neighborhood  strife.  Only  an  aching  sense 
of  her  inexperience  and  inability  prevented  her  from 
taking  the  business  into  her  own  hands,  then  and 
there.  She  would  have  sought  counsel  of  old  Joe, 
but,  unfortunately,  he  was  ill,  having  been  confined 
for  several  days  to  his  bed  in  the  little  shack  be- 
yond the  orchard. 

When  Hank  Austin  and  John  Stanford  reached 
Gospel  Swamp,  they  found  an  assemblage  of  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  people;  men  with  collars 
and  cuffs,  and  men  with  woolen  shirts  open  on  hairy 
breasts.  Old  Hawley,  with  one  suspender  length- 
ened out  with  a  piece  of  shoestring,  and  the  ex- 
preacher  justice  of  the  peace  from  Serrano,  shaven 
and  shorn.  Against  a  wagon  leaned  Jack  Ball,  with 
hands  and  arms  tattooed  like  a  cannibal's.  He  was 
turning  the  leaves  of  an  open  Bible  when  Mr.  Aus- 
tin addressed  him. 

"  Good  evening,  that's  a  good  book  you  are  read- 
ing." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  man,  "  but  I  don't  allow  to 
understand  it.  I  got  converted  once  by  means  of 
a  preacher  what  come  aboard  the  Julia;  but  we  went 
to  the  ice  that  year  and  I  fell  from  grace.  There 
was  too  much  fog  and  wind  up  there." 

"  Oh,  then  you  haven't  been  here  long  ?  " 

"  No,  I  drifted  into  San  Pedro  last  month  on  the 


HELEN  97 

Neptune.  I'm  only  waiting  for  a  better  boat.  The 
Neptune's  a  nasty  little  tramp.  That's  why  I  quit." 

Austin,  seeing  no  prospect  of  testimony  from  that 
source,  cut  the  acquaintance  short,  and,  followed  by 
John  Stanford,  went  into  the  tent.  The  congrega- 
tion was  just  beginning  to  sing  "  Shall  we  gather 
at  the  river;  gather  with  the  saints  at  the  river." 

"  That's  all  right,"  laughed  Austin,  twitching  one 
corner  of  his  eye  at  his  companion ;  "  we'll  see  how 
many  of  them  will  gather  at  the  river  the  way  we 
want  them  to." 

The  two  men  passed  up  the  aisle,  took  seats  near 
the  center  of  the  congregation,  and  listened  to  the 
opening  prayer.  This  was  followed  by  an  experi- 
ence meeting,  during  which  a  number  of  men  and 
women  testified  to  their  conversion;  then  came  an 
invitation  for  those  who  desired  to  be  prayed  for  to 
come  forward.  Mr.  Austin,  regarding  this  as  a 
feasible  way  of  becoming  better  acquainted,  accepted 
the  invitation.  He  was  a  shrewd  judge  of  human 
nature  and  after  half-an-hour  on  the  anxious  bench, 
had  no  trouble  in  taking  such  men  as  he  chose  aside 
and  having  a  little  confidential  talk  with  them. 
Most  of  them  knew  about  the  lawsuit,  and  self  in- 
terest and  race  prejudice  already  ran  high. 

"  It's  a  straight  case  between  the  Americans  and 
the  greasers,"  declared  one  old  settler,  "  and  we 
might  as  well  find  out  now  as  any  time  who's  who." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frank  Slater  egotistically,  "  I 
predicted  years  ago  that  we  should  have  trouble  with 
the  Spaniards.  It  seems  as  if  there  ain't  no  place 
for  an  honest  man  nowhere." 


98  HELEN 

Even  Mrs.  Burlingham  had  ideas  concerning  her 
privileges  as  an  American.  "  It's  pure  deviltry," 
she  declared  loudly,  "  for  folks  like  them  to  pester 
folks  like  us." 

Notwithstanding  the  religious  aspect  of  the  meet- 
ing, men  gathered  around  Mr.  Austin  to  express 
their  opinions  about  the  boundary  line,  thus  giving, 
unwittingly,  the  information  that  he  wanted. 

To  those  who  sympathized  with  Don  Alvarado  the 
detective  gave  his  most  insinuating  smile,  some- 
times taking  them  aside  and  making  such  offers 
of  financial  aid  as  in  his  judgment  would  facilitate 
the  business  he  had  in  hand. 

And  the  brethren  warmed  to  him  in  simple  con- 
fidence. 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference  where  you  be," 
whispered  old  man  Little  to  one  of  his  neighbors; 
"  when  a  man  like  Mr.  Austin  wants  to  see  you  on 
biz'ness;  camp-meeting's  as  good  as  any  place  1*" 

So  passed  the  evening,  and  so  grew  the  storm  that 
threatened  to  break  over  the  head  of  Don  Juan  Al- 
varado and  his  neighbors.  It  was  late  when  Mr. 
Austin  and  John  Stanford  started  back  to  the  ranch, 
and  the  jingle  of  gold  in  the  former's  pocket  was 
perceptibly  lessened.  Honest  men,  like  Frank  Sla- 
ter, understood  what  was  wanted  and  shaped  their 
testimony  accordingly. 

The  methods  of  Hank  Austin  struck  John  Stan- 
ford as  very  shrewd.  The  audacity  of  going  for- 
ward to  the  mourners'  bench  to  be  prayed  for,  and 
the  liberal  use  of  money,  were  experiences  alto- 
gether new  to  the  countryman,  and  his  young  blood 


HELEN  99 

cried  out  for  more.  As  they  drove  homeward  they 
laid  plans  for  still  further  exploits  in  which  "  John 
Doe  "  and  "  Richard  Roe  "  were  to  be  brought  forth 
from  their  obscurity  and  made  to  assume  a  habita- 
tion and  a  name. 

It  was  midnight  when  the  young  man  started  for 
his  own  home.  He  went  forth  into  the  great  still- 
ness, filled  with  enthusiasm  for  his  new  role  as  ama- 
teur detective.  Not  a  coyote  raised  its  voice,  as  he 
rode  along;  not  an  owl  fluttered  its  soft  wing,  but 
just  before  he  reached  his  barn  a  mockingbird  sud- 
denly poured  forth  its  night  song.  It  whirled  and 
whistled  its  roundelay  and  finally  ended  by  peeping 
like  a  hurt  chicken.  That  wonderful  voice,  as  it 
broke  through  the  still,  night  air,  was  the  first  thing 
that  aroused  Stanford  to  the  least  sense  of  his  folly 
in  joining  the  detective  in  his  schemes. 

"  I  wonder,  if  you  are  calling  to  me  in  particu- 
lar," he  said  aloud. 

The  mocker  dropped  into  a  whistle.  Pulling  his 
horse  up,  John  Stanford  continued : 

"  Put  in  your  dog  call  and  your  quail  call ;  put  in 
your  blue-bird  call,  I  like  them." 

After  listening  a  few  moments  he  led  his  horse 
into  the  barn  and  fed  him,  took  a  look  at  the  corral 
gate,  locked  the  door,  and  sought  his  bed.  Next 
morning  he  hesitated  a  little  between  the  waiting 
work  at  home  and  the  promised  return  to  the  An- 
drews ranch ;  but  after  milking  the  cows  and  feeding 
the  chickens  the  mystic  influence  of  the  bird  loosened 
its  hold  upon  him  and  he  saddled  his  horse  and  rode 
away. 


100 

He  arrived  at  Helen's  house  a  little  after  break- 
fast, and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  met  the  young  lady 
alone  in  the  garden.  Seeing  no  reason  for  secrecy, 
he  told  her  of  the  happenings  of  the  previous  night 
and  ended  by  saying: 

"  Austin  has  had  lots  of  experience  in  lawsuits ! 
He  knows  how  to  work  them  up  all  right !  " 

Helen  caught  her  breath.  Perhaps  she  was  not 
conscious  of  the  resolve  that  was  shaping  itself  in 
her  brain ;  but  she  suddenly  turned  about  and,  going 
directly  to  Austin,  said  with  an  air  of  offended  dig- 
nity: 

"  Is  there  no  principle  involved  in  legal  proced- 
ure? Do  men  bribe  and  deceive  because  they  have 
a  suit  at  law  ?  I  am  not  satisfied  with  what  you  did 
last  night.  I  do  not  believe  this  is  a  fight  between 
'  greasers '  and  whites.  I  know  the  Alvarados ;  I 
have  known  them  all  my  life.  They  are  estimable 
people.  Don  Juan  Alvarado  is  a  patriarch  in  his 
own  family.  If  I  understand  the  matter  at  all,  it 
is  only  a  question  of  fact  as  to  where  the  river  was 
forty  years  ago.  If  it  has  changed  its  bed  so  as 
adversely  to  affect  us,  I  fail  to  see  any  reason  for 
arraying  neighbor  against  neighbor,  or  for  moving 
heaven  and  earth,  either  to  prevent  men  from  testi- 
fying, or  to  induce  them  to  do  so.  If  Juan  Alva- 
rado's  Spanish  grant  describes  his  land  as  being 
bounded  on  the  south  by  the  river,  and  the  river  is 
not  where  it  was  at  the  time  his  deed  was  made,  why 
not  find  out  the  truth  and  let  it  go  at  that  I " 

Austin  was  too  taken  aback  to  trust  himself  to 
speak.  He  hung  his  head  and  rattled  some  coins  in 


HELEN  101 

his  pocket,  then  rose  and  went  toward  the  barn, 
leaving  Stanford  to  finish  the  conversation. 

"  I  don't  see  how  we  can  work  it  the  way  you 
say ;"  protested  the  young  man.  "  All  the  folks  we 
saw  last  night  thought  we  ought  to  fight;  them 
Spaniards  have  no  right  to  bother  us." 

"  I  cannot  abide  by  their  judgment,"  Helen  an- 
swered, and  then  went  into  the  house,  leaving  him 
alone.  Stanford,  a  good  deal  shaken  up  in  his 
mind,  went  to  the  barn,  where  he  found  Austin  pre- 
paring for  another  trip  afield. 

"  This  may  be  just  a  notion ;  women  are  unrea- 
sonable creatures,"  Austin  commented.  "  Yesterday 
she  listened  quietly  enough  to  my  arguments,  though 
I  must  admit  I  saw  a  dangerous  flash  in  her  eyes 
once  or  twice.  If  she  should  take  the  reins  at  this 
point  in  the  proceedings,  all  chance  of  success  would 
be  against  us." 

He  went  on  harnessing  as  he  talked,  and  when  all 
was  ready  motioned  to  Stanford  to  take  the  vacant 
seat  at  his  side.  Stanford,  somewhat  reluctantly, 
accepted  the  invitation  and  the  two  rode  off.  When 
they  were  out  of  sight,  Helen  went  to  her  room  and 
threw  herself  upon  her  bed. 

"  The  perplexing,  tormenting,  worry  of  it  all !  " 
she  sighed.  "  It's  too  bad  to  be  dragged  out  of 
one's  pace  by  such  affairs." 

After  she  had  indulged  in  the  luxury  of  a  good 
cry,  she  rose  and  went  out  to  the  little  shack  where 
old  Joe  lay.  As  soon  as  she  opened  the  door,  she 
saw  that  disease  was  preying  hard  upon  the  tor- 
tured body  of  the  Indian  and  she  cast  aside  all  other 


102  HELEN 

thoughts  to  become  physician  and  nurse.  All  day 
she  sat  by  his  side,  wetting  his  parched  lips  and 
laying  cold  cloths  upon  his  burning  forehead.  This 
loving  service  helped  to  keep  her  from  thinking  about 
the  law  suit,  but  she  could  not  shake  off  a  forboding 
of  trouble. 

It  was  late  when  the  two  men  returned  from  their 
search  for  evidence,  and  the  young  lady  was  too 
tired  to  see  them.  But  by  the  next  morning  there 
had  been  born  of  her  deepening  convictions  a  strong 
desire  to  postpone  the  matter  and  if  possible  settle  it 
according  to  some  law  of  ethics  not  yet  revealed  to 
her.  Even  though  she  had  to  face  the  whole  de- 
plorable situation  alone  she  would  use  her  judgment 
and  trust  in  Providence. 

She  invited  Mr.  Austin  to  breakfast  with  her  and 
after  a  few  cursory  remarks  said  to  him: 

"  There  must  be  some  better  way  to  settle  this 
business  than  the  one  you  are  pursuing.  You  may 
tell  Mr.  Watkins  that  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  law- 
suit, as  it  now  stands.  Tell  him  I  did  not  know 
that  people  were  obliged  to  resort  to  such  measures 
for  the  protection  of  their  rights.  Tell  him  that  I 
did  not  know  one  must  lose  one's  self-respect  on  the 
bare  chance  of  saving  one's  property." 

"  Do  you  in  the  least  realize  what  you  are  say- 
ing, Miss  Andrews  ? "  Austin  asked,  looking  at  her 
in  incredulous  wonder. 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  cannot  go  into  details  with 
you;  but  you  must  understand  that  I  see  things 
from  a  different  standpoint  than  yours." 

With  one  eye  still  on  the  money  question,  Austin 


HELEN"  103 

protested  that  it  was  not  customary  for  a  client  to 
dismiss  his  attorney  without  a  formal  notification 
and  the  payment  of  fees. 

"  Both  of  which  I  shall  certainly  attend  to,"  re- 
sponded Helen,  a  little  warmly.  While  they  were 
still  discussing  the  matter,  John  Stanford  arrived 
and  at  once  gathered  from  the  words  he  heard  that 
Helen  had  become  unmanageable. 

For  a  time  both  men  watched  the  girl  with  some- 
thing like  awe,  but  at  last  Austin  turned  to  Stan- 
ford and  said: 

"  '  The  house  is  divided  against  itself/  with  no 
hope  that  a  common  understanding  can  be  reached." 

Without  further  parley,  Helen  bade  her  visitors 
good-bye  and  set  out  for  the  shack  to  attend  to  her 
patient,  leaving  the  men  all  the  leisure  they  desired 
for  their  departure. 

For  three  days  she  fought  the  fever  that  was 
burning  the  life  from  poor  Joe's  enfeebled  body. 
On  the  fourth  day  he  seemed  better;  he  was  less 
nervous,  and  he  made  a  sign  for  food.  After-  he 
had  swallowed  a  bit  of  broth,  his  strength  revived  a 
little  and  he  began  to  talk.  At  first  he  rambled  on 
about  his  parents  and  his  childhood  days ;  but,  finally, 
he  tried  to  reach  an  old  Indian  basket  which  was 
under  his  bed.  Helen  helped  to  raise  it  and  place 
it  beside  him,  when  he  carefully  ran  his  finger 
round  the  edge  until  it  reached  a  little  twist  in  the 
weave,*  then  turned  that  part  with  reverent  touch 
to  the  east. 

*  Between  the  bottom  of  an  Indian  marriage  basket  and  its 
upper  half  is  woven  an  earth-colored  pattern,  which  runs 


104  HELEN' 

After  a  little  silence,  the  dying  Indian  pnt  his 
hand  into  the  basket,  and,  by  feeling  about,  drew 
from  it  a  small  package  which  was  tied  with  many 
a  round  of  leather  string.  He  tried  to  speak,  but 
his  voice  trembled,  and  Helen  brought  him  a  glass 
of  port  wine,  after  which  he  was  able  to  say 
clearly : — 

"  My  father  and  my  mother  were  at  the  Mission 
Santa  Barbara.  But  the  God  of  the  Christians 
could  not  keep  off  the  pest,  so  they  ran  away  and 
came  here  and  built  a  home  under  the  Three  Trees. 
It  was  there  that  I  was  born;  there  by  the  river, 
where  the  fishing  was  good  and  where  the  sweet 
herbs  and  roots  made  living  easy.  But  the  San 
Gabriel  padres  found  us  —  and  compelled  my  father 
to  go  and  work  for  them  and  they  baptized  me  and 
called  me  Jose,  and  they  made  a  little  picture  for 
my  mother  —  for  she  had  the  speech  of  the  Piutes 
and  could  not  understand  the  Mission  people." 

With  trembling  hands,  old  Joe  unwrapped  the 
parchment  and  passed  it  to  Helen.  She  saw  the 
date  and  the  name,  and  above  these  was  a  little  water- 
color  sketch  of  the  Three  Trees,  with  the  cross,  and 
the  river  lapping  at  their  roots. 

nearly  around  the  basket,  but  is  not  joined  at  the  ends, 
there  being  left  between  them  a  narrow  perpendicular  strip 
of  the  body-color.  This  straight,  narrow  strip  represents  the 
passage  through  which  the  soul  must  pass  on  its  journey  to 
higher  spheres.  In  the  home  of  the  Indian,  the  basket  is 
always  placed  with  this  line  toward  the  east.  On  the  upper 
edge  of  the  basket,  is  a  little  notch  of  bark,  which  the  finger 
can  feel  in  the  dark.  If  the  basket  is  moved  in  the  night,  the 
finger  feeling  the  notch  turns  it  so  that  it  faces  the  east. 


H  E  L  E  N  105 

"  Can  it  be,"  she  asked  gently,  "  that  you  were 
really  born  there  under  the  Three  Trees,  forty  years 
ago  ? " 

"  Yes,  forty  years  ago,  as  it  says  on  the  picture," 
the  Indian  replied,  and  went  on,  huskily: 

"  The  priest  called  the  place  holy,  because  of  the 
cross,  but  my  father  was  afraid,  for  he  hated  the 
church  and  the  whipping-post  and  all  the  ways  of 
the  Missions  and  he  was  minded  to  go  further  into 
the  mountains ;  but  my  mother  said  '  no/  so  we 
staid  there  for  many  years.  There  the  medicine 
men  chanted  when  my  mother  died,  and  there  my 
sister  was  married.  But  after  my  mother  was  gone, 
the  rest  moved  on  to  the  mountains,  and  I  stayed 
alone  with  my  broken  leg.  And  then  your  father 
came,  and  took  me  into  his  home  and  told  me  to 
stay.  And  when  I  was  sick,  your  mother  was  good 
to  me,  and  I  loved  her  like  my  own  people." 

He  paused  and  seemed  so  exhausted  that  Helen 
feared  he  might  not  resume.  But,  after  a  little 
rest,  he  went  on  softly  yet  audibly  — 

"  Now,  I  go  where  they  are  —  your  mother  and 
mine!  I  am  not  a  Christian,  but  my  mother,  she 
was.  The  priest  said  of  a  certainty  that  she  would 
see  salvation,  though  she  did  run  away  from  the 
Mission  and  live  the  wild  life.  But  me,  I  served 
the  Indian's  God,  here  by  the  river.  I  have  seen 
men  who  served  the  Christian's  God,  but  they  were 
more  wild  and  cruel  than  my  people!  So  I  take 
my  chances  with  the  coyotes.  Forty  years  —  I 
have  lived  —  and  I  have  harmed  no  man  —  and 


106  HELEK 

now  —  I  go  —  where  the  lameness  —  is  —  not  — 
and  where  — " 

He  ceased  to  speak  and,  soon  the  fatal  rattle 
choked  his  breath.  When  the  great  calm,  which 
Helen  knew  to  be  the  end,  had  settled  upon  his  face, 
she  still  sat  by  his  side. 

He  was  the  last  link  that  bound  her  to  her  par- 
ents, and  she  felt  more  utterly  alone  now  than  ever 
before.  She  struggled  with  her  emotion,  knowing 
only  too  well  that  none  of  the  people  about  her 
would  share  in  her  grief.  As  she  recalled  his  cau- 
tion and  his  shrinking  from  contact  with  men,  she 
decided  that  she  would  not  call  upon  any  of  her 
neighbors  to  join  with  her  in  her  mourning.  She 
staid  alone  by  the  body  all  through  the  night,  and 
in  the  morning  she  sent  for  an  Indian  sheep-herder 
and  for  Juan  Ruiz. 

When  they  came  Helen  instructed  them  to  make 
the  last  resting  place  beside  the  graves  of  her  par- 
ents. When  all  was  ready  they  wrapped  the  body 
in  an  Indian  blanket  and  lowered  it  into  the  grave. 
On  his  breast  they  placed  the  marriage  basket  of 
his  mother,  with  the  white  line  turned  toward  the 
east,  as  was  the  custom  of  his  tribe. 

Not  being  willing  to  mock  her  dead  with  mean- 
ingless words  and  ceremonies,  Helen  lifted  her  own 
hand  and  repeated  a  short  poem.  Then  added: 

"  Oh,  mother  earth,  take  this  stricken  body  into 
thy  treasure-house,  and  give  back  to  me  the  grasses 
and  the  flowers  resulting  from  its  decay.  Hold  it 
in  trust  for  me,  and  sing  of  it  to  me." 

Then,  as  the  clear  note  of  a  bird  came  to  her 


HELEtf  107 

ear,  she  added,  "  Warble  on,  you  gray-brown  bird. 
Pour  your  chant  from  the  bushes,  for  I  cannot  com- 
pose a  sermon  that  will  equal  yours." 

For  a  few  moments,  the  bird  shook  out  his  wild 
carol,  to  which  the  three  listened  in  breathless  si- 
lence. Then  Helen  dropped  a  handful  of  dust  upon 
the  body  and  the  two  men  filled  in  the  grave. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HELEN  was  tired  after  the  week  of  care  and 
anxiety  attendant  upon  the  death  of  Joe,  and  the 
presence  in  her  home  of  Mr.  Austin  and  John  Stan- 
ford. She  shut  herself  into  her  own  room,  fully 
determined  to  sit  peacefully  while  Nature  proceeded 
with  her  eternal  business  of  recuperation.  But  the 
western  mind  does  not  long  remain  in  a  state  of 
inactivity;  within  two  days  things  to  be  done  were 
intruding  themselves  upon  her.  She  did  not  care, 
yet,  to  ask  herself  what  these  things  were ;  but  she 
could  not  blind  herself  to  the  fact  that  one  miser- 
able episode  stood  out  beyond  the  others  and  de- 
manded a  place  in  her  thoughts.  This  was  the  title 
to  her  land. 

Her  woman's  capacity  for  playing  hide  and  seek 
with  herself  could  not  conceal  the  fact  that,  sooner 
or  later,  the  insinuating  Austin  and  the  foolish. 
Stanford  must  be  reckoned  with.  It  seemed  very 
desolate  that  she  must  face  the  whole  deplorable  sit- 
uation alone.  Although  John  Stanford's  title  was 
in  as  much  danger  as  her  own  and  their  interests 
were  practically  the  same,  his  childish  estimate  of 
law  and  courts  made  her  understand  that  she  could 
look  for  no  assistance  from  him.  In  the  stress  of 
the  hour  she  had  quite  forgotten  the  baptismal  cer- 
tificate and  its  mute  testimony  on  her  behalf;  but 

108 


HELEN  109 

now  it  flashed  into  her  mind  and  she  wondered 
whether  the  precious  document  was  safe  out  in  the 
shack.  Putting  on  her  sunbonnet,  she  walked 
through  the  orchard  and  past  the  graves  to  the  place. 
Everything  was  as  the  sheep-herder  and  Ruiz  had 
left  it.  The  articles  that  had  been  in  the  basket  lay 
heaped  in  the  middle  of  the  bed  where  they  had  been 
hurriedly  thrown  when  it  was  emptied  to  be  placed 
in  the  grave.  She  sat  down  and  looked  over  old 
Joe's  collection  of  treasures. 

It  was  not  a  very  valuable  one:  Only  the  splen- 
did wing  of  an  eagle ;  some  wampum,  long  since 
useless  as  money;  a  bear's  tooth;  a  few  feathers, 
and  the  package  containing  the  baptismal  certificate. 
Over  the  head  of  the  bed  hung  the  bow  and  arrow, 
with  which  the  dead  man  had  supplied  himself  with 
food,  when  the  unkindness  of  Mrs.  Burlingham  had 
driven  him  back  to  his  primitive  habits. 

Helen  understood  the  language  of  each  of  these 
trifles  and  pondered  over  them  long  and  lovingly,  as 
she  sat  in  the  only  chair  the  place  afforded.  Then, 
taking  the  package  and  smoothing  the  buckskin  pic- 
ture out,  she  spread  it  before  her  on  the  bed.  She 
had  hardly  thought  of  it  as  art;  but  now  she  noticed 
that  the  old  padre  had  done  his  work  with  consid- 
erable skill.  The  mottled  bark  of  the  sycamores; 
the  cross  so  strangely  formed  by  nature;  the  color 
and  perspective,  and  most  important  of  all,  the  river 
lapping  the  roots  of  the  trees,  were  clear  and  dis- 
tinct. 

Helen  saw  at  once  the  possibilities  of  the  docu- 
ment —  saw  that  it  might  be  used  to  quiet  the  tur- 


110  HELEN 

moil  caused  by  the  lawsuit,  and  to  prevent  any 
further  dispute  about  the  boundary  line. 

She  felt  something  like  superstitious  awe  as  she 
smoothed  the  wrinkles  out  of  the  bit  of  buckskin. 
She  saw  that  all  the  wisdom  of  all  the  lawyers  could 
not  prove  the  location  of  the  river  forty  years  back 
as  did  this  little  piece  of  the  old  padre's  handiwork. 
She  wrapped  it  up  carefully,  as  though  it  were  a 
sacred  thing,  and  put  it  into  her  bosom,  then  walked 
slowly  back  toward  the  house. 

The  sun  was  low  on  the  horizon.  Majestic  fog 
banks  were  turning  to  gold  in  the  west,  with  here 
and  there  an  opening  of  misty  green.  As  the  girl 
felt  the  great  stillness  creeping  over  the  landscape, 
she  turned  and  looked  again  toward  the  graves. 

"  Poor  old  Joe,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  "  the 
last  one  that  I  could  call  my  own  has  gone  to  sleep 
on  the  same  dreamless  pillow  as  my  father  and  my 
mother.  !No  companionship  is  left  me,  and  yet,  I 
know  of  a  certainty  that  everything  is  left  me.  If 
I  bend  my  head  and  listen,  I  seem  to  hear  a  deep 
melody  emanating  from  his  grave.  If  I  can  use 
this  little  picture  on  his  baptismal  certificate  to 
prevent  neighborhood  strife  it  will  be  in  harmony 
with  the  love  I  have  for  all  my  dead." 

Then,  raising  her  face  to  the  old  cypress  tree,  she 
added :  "  Bend  down,  old  tree,  and  breathe  to  me 
the  mystery  of  my  loved  ones.  Do  they  whisper 
through  your  sighing  leaves?  Do  they  float  lightly 
above  you  in  piney  scents  ?  " 

Thus  did  Helen  pray  until  the  light  faded  from 
the  sky.  Thus  did  she  feel  her  way  toward  the 


HELEN  111 

higher  levels  of  human  conduct.  When  she  went 
to  her  room  she  tried  to  read  a  book,  but  her  mind 
drifted  to  the  buckskin  picture  in  her  bosom  and 
the  best  way  to  make  use  of  it.  After  a  time  it 
occurred  to  her  to  go  to  Senor  Alvarado,  as  a  friend 
and  neighbor,  and  show  him  the  curious  document. 
Perhaps  the  old  Spaniard  might  suggest  some  way 
of  settling  the  question  without  further  legal  pro- 
cedure; perhaps  he  might  look  at  the  matter  from 
her  standpoint,  rather  than  from  that  of  her  neigh- 
bors. Calmed  by  this  thought,  she  went  to  bed  and 
soon  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over, 
she  put  on  a  soft  wool  skirt,  tied  the  strings  of  a 
white  sunbonnet  under  her  chin,  and  went  to  the 
barn.  Mandy  Jones  saw  her  coming  and  gave  a 
joyous  little  whinny. 

"  You're  tired  of  standing  still ;  you  want  a  good 
run,  don't  you  ? "  Helen  called  while  still  some  dis- 
tance away. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  sheep  dog  was  there, 
visiting  Nero.  Both  dogs  looked  up  inquiringly  at 
Helen,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Can  we  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  can  go,"  she  told  them,  and,  patting 
Maria's  head,  she  added: 

"  It  will  be  a  recommendation  to  have  you  along. 
All  the  Spanish  people  know  you,  and  you  know 
their  language  better  than  I  do." 

So,  talking  to  the  dogs,  with  a  word  now  and  then 
to  Mandy,  she  adjusted  the  saddle  and  lengthened 
the  bridle;  then  looked  with  critical  exactness  at  a 


112  HELEN 

cracked  hoof,  and,  seeing  that  it  was  not  deep  enough 
to  be  painful,  she  mounted  and  was  off. 

It  was  a  long  ride  to  Don  Juan  Alvarado's,  but  the 
morning  was  glorious,  and,  as  the  vast  distances 
came  into  view,  the  sadness  in  Helen's  face  was 
turned  into  beauty  almost  divine.  The  sensitive 
right  hand,  as  it  held  the  rein  over  Mandy's  neck 
became  an  emotional  index  which  pointed  to  a  na- 
ture beautiful  and  good;  while  the  draperies  which 
clung  to  her  body  fell  in  folds  suited  to  a  picture 
of  the  Virgin.  Occasionally  she  stopped  and  waited 
for  Maria,  who  limped  behind,  and  once  she  drew 
rein  for  a  band  of  sheep  that  were  being  driven  to 
the  lower  levels  of  the  Santa  Gertrudis  ranch. 

When  she  reached  the  long  avenue  of  pepper-trees 
leading  up  to  the  house  of  Senor  Alvarado,  there 
was  a  little  flutter  in  her  heart  lest  the  family  should 
have  been  influenced  by  neighborhood  gossip;  but  as 
soon  as  the  young  people  recognized  her,  they  came 
out  with  smiling  faces  —  Ramona,  Alfonso,  Jacinta, 
Manuel,  Carlos,  and  little  Dolores  —  all  ran  to  wel- 
come her.  As  Helen  expected,  the  sheep  dog  was  a 
surprise  to  them,  for  the  Americans  did  not  usually 
have  trained  dogs. 

"  How  came  she  with  you  ? "  Manuel  asked. 
"  She  is  Spanish !  She  was  raised  on  the  Cumulos 
Rancho  and  belonged  to  Jose  Aguilar."  He  ca- 
ressed the  silken  ears  of  Maria  and  went  on: 

"  She  had  a  long  line  of  good  mothers,  and  she 
was  trained  by  Delgado,  and  then  broke  his  heart 
by  losing  the  use  of  her  leg." 

Then  the  youth  must  need  see  the  spot  where  the 


HELEN"  113 

fang  went  in,  and  must  call  Padre  Tomas  to  see, 
for  the  padre  had  known  the  dog  in  San  Diego 
county.  After  this  Alfonso  told  how  Maria  had 
staid  by  the  sheep,  although  she  was  in  mortal  ag- 
ony, and  dragged  herself  from  side  to  side  to  keep 
the  band  together,  giving  no  hint  until  her  tongue 
hung  out  and  her  eyes  saw  nothing.  Here  Alfonso 
crossed  himself  between  his  two  perfectly  formed 
brows  and  Padre  Tomas  cast  his  eyes  deep  on  the 
ground. 

Then  Juan  Ruiz  took  the  bridle  from  Helen, 
while  Ramona  insisted  that  she  must  dismount  and 
stay  at  least  a  week.  This  was  all  very  soothing  to 
Helen's  sensitive  nature  and  she  gave  up  her  horse 
and  stood  with  the  girls  under  the  pepper  tree  while 
they  poured  into  her  ears  the  news  of  the  ranch ;  how 
three  hundred  lambs  had  been  lost  early  in  the  sea- 
son, during  a  heavy  rain;  how  a  bear  had  been 
killed  in  the  canon,  even  how  a  Mexican  herder  had 
lain  all  day  with  his  face  in  the  dust,  leaving  his 
sister's  child  alone  with  the  dogs;  and  then  how  the 
bees  had  stored  honey  in  the  loft  of  the  house  until 
it  ran  down  and  spoiled  a  picture  of  the  Virgin. 

At  last,  they  came  to  the  veranda,  little  Dolores 
now  talking  of  the  progress  of  her  mother's  ailment, 
which  was  too  much  fat.  Dozing  in  his  chair,  sat 
Don  Juan  Alvarado,  the  influence  of  good  wine  from 
San  Gabriel  being  upon  him.  The  round  belly  of 
Padre  Tomas  shook  as  he  saw  the  ungraceful  atti- 
tude into  which  his  host  had  fallen.  He  reached 
out  with  a  peacock  feather  and  tickled  the  nose  of 
the  old  Don,  who  awoke  with  a  start,  to  join  with 


HELEN 

the  rest  in  good-humored  laughter  at  the  reverend 
father's  trick.  Then,  seeing  Helen,  the  old  Span- 
iard, notwithstanding  his  eighty  years,  sprang  to  his 
feet 

"  My  faith !  "  he  cried,  "  it  is  the  young  lady 
from  the  Three  Trees !  " 

"  Yes,  senor,  you  have  not  forgotten  me,"  Helen 
answered. 

"  No,  no !  "  replied  the  old  man,  "  but  why  do 
you  come  so  seldom?  It  is  long,  a  year  at  least, 
since  we  have  seen  you  here." 

"  Oh,"  Helen  explained,  "  duties  and  duties,  and 
still  more  duties !  " 

"  Senorita !  "  cried  Senor  Alvarado,  in  surprise. 
"  Such  a  young  woman  with  duties !  There  are  no 
duties  that  cannot  be  put  off  until  to-morrow." 

"  Manana  is  a  good  word,"  admitted  Helen,  "  but 
we  Americans  do  not  yet  understand  it." 

"  But  you  must  learn  it ;  it  is  the  saving  of  all 
the  wear  and  tear  of  life." 

Padre  Tomas  brought  out  two  chairs  and  mo- 
tioned Helen  to  sit  down.  The  priest  quite  agreed 
with  Senor  Alvarado  that  it  were  better  to  sleep 
and  wait  for  to-morrow. 

"  Yes,  padre,  that  may  do  for  you.  But  with  me 
it  is  to-day  —  that  is  why  I  am  here.  I  have  come 
to  show  you  something;"  and  the  girl,  turning  to 
Don  Juan,  added,  "  something  that  old  Joe  left ; 
something  that  bears  upon  the  troublesome  boundary 
line." 

At  this,  Helen  reached  into  her  pocket  and 
brought  out  the  baptismal  record. 


HELEN  115 

"  In  a  basket,  under  his  bed,  was  this.  I  hope  it 
means  something  to  us  both;  I  hope  we  can  use  it 
in  the  interest  of  peace.  I  felt  a  little  timid  about 
coming  to  you  —  but  — "  she  hesitated. 

"  You  did  not  suppose  an  Alvarado  could  be  dis- 
courteous under  his  own  roof  ? "  the  old  man  de- 
manded loftily. 

Helen  blushed  and  hung  her  head.  Padre  Tomas, 
seeing  her  discomfort,  reached  out  his  hand  for  the 
package.  He  removed  the  many  yards  of  string, 
and,  when  the  certificate  was  at  last  in  his  hand,  he 
looked  at  it  long  and  fondly. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  cried,  "  this  is  the  work  of  Padre 
Dumetz !  He  had  some  knowledge  of  drawing,  and 
he  took  pleasure  in  making  sketches  when  time  and 
opportunity  offered.  I  have  seen  many  of  his  bap- 
tism certificates  embellished  with  sketches  of  the 
place  where  the  child  was  born." 

After  a  careful  examination  of  the  details  of  the 
picture,  he  passed  it  over  to  Senor  Alvarado. 

"  Ah !  "  the  old  Spaniard  exclaimed,  when  he  had 
glanced  at  it,  "  the  Three  Trees,  and  the  river  run- 
ning so  close  to  their  roots." 

Then,  calling  his  eldest  son,  he  said,  "  Look ! 
look !  —  this,  indeed,  is  testimony !  " 

"  The  lawsuit  is  not  to  my  liking,"  said  Helen. 
"  I  know  but  little  about  such  things,  but  I  wish 
that  the  business  might  be  arranged  without  neigh- 
borhood strife.  For  my  part,  if  I  am  a  trespasser 
on  your  land,  I  shall  certainly  give  way ;  but  if  my 
father's  land  is  where  he  thought  it  to  be,  I  should 
like  to  have  the  title  made  clear." 


116  H  E  L  E  N 

Padre  Tomas  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  You  ask  only  what  is  just,  and  you  are  wise  in 
coming  to  us,  before  going  further." 

Helen's  heart  came  clear  up  into  her  throat. 
This  was  more  than  she  had  dared  hope  for,  and 
when  Manuel  took  the  sketch  and  pointed  to  the 
river  washing  the  roots  of  the  Three  Trees,  she 
could  scarcely  speak  for  emotion. 

"  This  lawsuit  is  not  as  bad  as  you  think,"  said 
Don  Juan.  "  It  is  only  an  attempt  to  establish  the 
boundary  line,  so  that  no  question  will  arise  in  the 
future.  It  can  be  adjusted  as  well  out  of  court  as 
in.  It  is  the  policy  of  the  lawyers  to  bring  into 
litigation  these  things;  but  it  is  not  necessary.  It 
would  be  far  better  if  neighbors  would  settle  such 
differences  between  themselves." 

"  Yes.  It  is  the  cupidity  of  the  men  who  live 
by  the  law,  as  well  as  the  ignorance  of  their  clients, 
that  makes  such  trouble,"  remarked  the  priest. 

"  Neither  my  son  nor  myself  wish  to  take  any- 
thing from  your  people,"  continued  Senor  Alvarado. 
"  A  strip  of  land  a  mile  wide  is  nothing  to  an 
Alvarado!  But  it  is  necessary  that  the  record 
should  be  made  clear,  as  necessary  for  you,  as  for 
my  family." 

Then  Padre  Tomas  spoke  again.  He  knew  some- 
thing of  law,  as  well  as  of  religion,  and  he  had  had 
trouble  enough  with  boundary  lines.  Holy  Church 
owned  land  in  plenty,  and  had  often  had  to  defend 
her  title.  He  recounted  cases  where  guns  and  pis- 
tols had  been  resorted  to,  and  finally  turning  to 
Helen  said: 


HELEN  117 

"  You  are  of  age,  are  you  not,  daughter  ?  " 

Helen  signified  by  a  nod  that  she  was. 

"  Then,  let  us  settle  this  affair  ourselves !  An 
agreement  between  the  parties  at  interest,  of  which 
you  are  one,  properly  signed  and  recorded,  is  all 
that  is  necessary." 

"  It  must  be  so.  It  is  reasonable  and  right," 
added  Seiior  Alvarado. 

"  Then,"  Manuel  spoke,  "  let  us  settle  it." 

"I  am  willing  to  leave  the  line  as  it  now  is;" 
asserted  the  father,  "  and  if  the  young  lady  is 
willing  to  accept  for  all  time  that  as  a  boundary 
line,  we  may  at  once  lay  the  matter  at  rest.  As  for 
the  other  settlers  on  the  river,  they  will  also  be 
protected  by  our  act,  or  they  may,  if  they  wish,  pro- 
cure the  same  terms  by  applying  to  me." 

Padre  Tomas  was  rejoiced.  He  declared  that  he 
would  draw  up  an  agreement  which  when  signed, 
sealed  and  delivered,  could  be  recorded;  he  would 
do  even  more  —  he  would  give  the  blessing  of  Holy 
Church  upon  the  transaction. 

"  It  is  better  than  my  best  hopes,"  cried  Helen. 
"  I  am  delighted  that  all  this  trouble  should  be  so 
easily  disposed  of." 

The  padre  drew  from  the  bosom  of  his  cassock  a 
packet  of  soft,  foreign  paper  and  broke  the  confining 
threads;  then,  asking  to  be  excused,  went  to  his 
room  where  he  remained  for  half  an  hour  when  he 
returned  with  a  document  which,  although  it  was 
unique,  both  in  form  and  substance,  had  in  it  the 
ring  of  absolute  sincerity.  Not  being  a  literary 
artist,  the  priest  took  no  account  of  trifling  shades 


118  HELEN 

of  meaning;  but  in  sheer  delight  of  peace  went 
straight  to  the  point  and  covered  the  whole  subject 
in  less  than  a  page. 

We,  the  undersigned,  being  of  sound  niind  and  of  legal  age, 
and  having  in  our  hearts  the  welfare  of  the  community  in 
which  we  live,  do  hereby  agree  that  the  south  line  of  the 
Rancho  Alvarado  shall  remain  forever  in  the  same  place  that 
settlers  on  the  north  boundary  line  of  the  Santa  Gertrudis 
Rancho  have  recognized  tt  to  be  in  years  past.  In  other  words, 
that  the  change  in  the  bed  of  the  San  Gabriel  river,  which 
occurred  last  year,  shall  not  be  used  as  a  pretext  for  in- 
creasing or  diminishing  the  holdings  of  any  bona  fide  owner. 
(Signed) 


Witnessed  by 


Dated, 

On  his  return  to  the  veranda,  the  whole  family 
assembled,  while  the  priest  read  aloud  the  agree- 
ment. There  was  no  objection,  and  no  lack  of 
harmony  between  the  interested  parties,  and,  after 
a  little  discussion,  both  Senor  Alvarado  and  Helen 
signed  the  paper,  with  Padre  Tomas  and  Juan  Ruiz 
as  witnesses. 

Thus  came  to  an  end  the  whole  business  of  estab- 
lishing the  southern  boundary  line  of  the  great  Al- 
varado Rancho. 

Helen  could  scarcely  realize  that  the  cumbersome 
machinery  of  the  courts  could  be  so  easily  stopped; 


HELEN  119 

she  could  scarcely  believe  that  the  signing  of  so  un- 
pretentious a  bit  of  paper  meant  so  much  to  herself 
and  to  the  community.  She  did  not  know  how  to 
express  her  feelings,  and  was  relieved  when  the  girls 
insisted  that  she  must  go  to  the  back  of  the  house 
and  see  a  woodchuck  which  was  chained  to  a  tree. 

As  they  crossed  the  patio,  Helen  noticed  that 
there  were  many  maids  hurrying  to  and  fro  across 
the  earthen  floor  of  the  kitchen,  and  she  began  to 
understand  that  her  visit  was  the  occasion  of  un- 
usual activity  there.  She  felt  a  little  nervous  for 
fear  she  might  prove  lacking  in  the  dinner  etiquette, 
for  the  Alvarados  lived  after  the  strictest  style  of 
the  Spanish  aristocracy.  She  attempted  to  escape 
by  asking  Manuel  to  bring  her  horse,  and  pleading 
a  desire  to  reach  home  before  night,  but  that  worthy 
son  of  a  worthy  family  held  up  his  hands  in  amaze- 
ment. Could  an  Alvarado  do  anything  so  gross  as 
to  permit  a  guest  to  go  from  his  home  without  a  full 
stomach  ? 

"  Oh  no,  it  will  never  do  for  you  to  go  now, 
senorita.  You  must  stay  till  dinner  is  over.  There 
is  time  enough  —  if  you  do  not  go  home  to-day  — 
Manafia,  you  know." 

The  girls  also  clamored  for  a  hearing.  It  had 
been  long  since  they  had  seen  Helen;  would  she  go 
now  and  not  come  for  another  year?  But  the  case 
was  closed  by  Sefior  Alvarado  himself,  who  declared 
positively  that  the  little  senorita  could  not  be  per- 
mitted to  depart.  With  all  this  sweet  compelling, 
Helen  found  it  impossible  to  leave  before  dinner  was 
served. 


120  HELEN 

They  were  very  slow,  those  dusky  Indian  servants, 
and  the  dinner  seemed  long  in  coming.  Helen  went 
with  the  girls  to  see  the  colts,  and  she  watched  the 
proud  peacock  spread  his  tail.  She  peered  at  the 
great  tanks  of  wine  and  at  the  sacks  of  wool  piled 
high  in  the  barn. 

At  last  the  bell  rang  and  the  family  fell  into 
line,  with  the  Senora  in  advance,  followed  by  her 
daughters,  her  daughters-in-law,  and  her  grand- 
daughters. The  stout  old  dame  took  a  seat  at  the 
foot  of  the  table,  and  her  husband,  with  his  eldest 
son  on  his  right,  took  his  place  at  the  head.  On  his 
left  were  placed  Padre  Tomas  and  Helen.  A  great 
platter  of  rice  and  onions,  fried  in  tallow,  stood  be- 
fore the  head  of  the  family,  while  below  were  cov- 
ered dishes  from  which  came  the  savory  odor  of 
chile  con  carne  and  enchiladas. 

Before  the  Seno-ra  was  a  great  silver  tea-pot,  from 
which  went  up  the  odor  of  tea.  The  dishes  were 
of  old  blue,  imported  from  China  in  camphor  wood 
chests  in  the  days  when  sailing  vessels  bore  the 
trade  of  the  Pacific  coast.  On  each  piece,  in  softest 
blue,  were  symbols  and  legends,  not  a  word  of  which 
any  of  the  family  could  translate,  although  the  priest 
had  mastered  one  or  two  of  the  ideas  and  pointed 
knowingly  to  the  eight-fold  path  and  the  three-toed 
dragon. 

"  I  think,"  remarked  the  padre  when  they  were 
all  seated,  "  that  the  Virgin  must  have  sent  you  to 
settle  the  lawsuit.  Of  all  my  duties,  I  like  none  so 
little  as  having  a  hand  in  neighborhood  quarrels." 

Serior  Alvarado  was  also  pleased  that  the  litiga- 


HELEN  121 

tion  was  averted.  "  I  am  an  old  man,  and  I  would 
not  leave  quarrels  hanging  over  the  heads  of  my 
sons,"  he  said ;  to  which  his  family  said  "  amen 
and  amen." 

After  the  meal,  Helen  insisting,  Manuel  brought 
Mandy  Jones  to  the  door  and  she  was  soon  on  her 
way  home,  the  lawsuit  settled,  the  ponderously  cor- 
rect documents  in  the  case  swept  away  like  so  much 
chaff  and  peace  brooding  over  the  neighborhood. 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

MARK  WATKINS  took  his  dismissal  from  the  case 
of  Alvardo  vs.  Helen  Andrews  et  al,  philosophically. 
He  was  too  large  a  man  to  be  shaken  by  the  loss  of 
a  few  clients  or  the  failure  of  a  case.  He  with- 
stood stormy  weather  like  some  splendid  castle  and 
like  a  castle  looked  all  the  better  for  the  washing 
down.  He  belonged  to  the  order  of  men  who  pos- 
sess genius  enough  to  see  that  failure  means  only  the 
reshaping  of  plans.  In  this  particular  case,  how- 
ever, he  had  to  deal  with  a  girl  who  was  young  and 
beautiful,  and  more  than  usually  persistent.  She 
had  interfered  with  his  management  against  all 
precedent,  and  what  was  worse,  she  had  been  suc- 
cessful; but  as  he  still  had  the  probate  matter  in 
hand  and  was  more  or  less  of  a  necessity  to  Helen  he 
decided  to  hold  matters  in  statu  quo  and  trust  to 
luck  for  a  favorable  turn  of  the  wheel. 

Austin  did  not  take  matters  so  philosophically. 
"  The  fact  is,"  he  declared,  "  I  feel  insulted.  I 
don't  believe  women  understand  business  or  have 
any  right  to  know  the  methods  by  which  lawsuits 
are  won." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  a  little  thing  like  that,"  Mr. 
Watkins  advised.  "  Go  to  work  on  another  case. 
The  Anaheim  Water  Company  are  prosecuting  Lugo 
for  diverting  water  from  the  Santa  Ana  river.  Go 

122 


HELEN  123 

down  there ;  or  go  to  Sawpit  Canon ;  there's  a  quar- 
rel up  there  over  the  water.  Plenty  to  do  —  plenty 
to  do!" 

Austin  backed  up  against  a  book  case  and  would 
have  continued  the  discussion;  but  Mr.  Watkins, 
with  an  armful  of  books,  was  already  on  his  way  to 
court  where  he  had  a  case  on  trial. 

He  reached  the  place  where  law  —  and  sometimes 
justice  —  is  dispensed,  in  time  to  hear  the  clerk  call 
"  Bowerman  vs.  Cole,"  and  answered  "  ready "  be- 
fore he  was  half-way  up  the  aisle.  Depositing  his 
pile  of  books  on  a  table  and  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow,  he  drew  out  a  brief  and  proceeded  to 
read  and  quote  such  authorities  as  he  thought  favor- 
able to  his  client.  Thus  he  lumbered  along  for  half- 
an-hour,  when  the  judge  announced  that  he  would 
take  the  matter  under  advisement.  He  left  his 
books  on  the  table  and  going  across  the  street,  en- 
tered a  saloon  and  called  for  a  drink. 

It  so  happened  that  as  he  leaned  over  the  bar, 
there  came  through  the  side  door  a  woman  of  the 
town,  known  as  "  Jennie."  She  was  a  woman  who 
had  some  kindness  in  her  heart,  and,  under  more 
favorable  circumstances,  would  have  had  consider- 
able beauty ;  a  woman  by  nature  witty  and  glad,  but 
by  some  event,  written  ages  before  in  the  stars,  now 
lost  to  shame.  She  kissed  her  hand,  throwing  it 
lightly  to  Mr.  Watkins,  and  together  they  drank  and 
drank  again.  ]STo  sort  of  etiquette  was  observed; 
they  laughed  and  joked  and  finally  he  said  "  Keep 
a  light  in  your  window  for  me  to-night,"  and  bowing 
went  back  to  his  office. 


124  H  E  L  E  N 

As  usual,  people  were  waiting  for  him.  Men 
with  large  moneyed  interests ;  men  with  a  will  to 
quarrel;  men  with  vengeance  written  in  their  faces 
waited  for  him.  Young  Charles  Bennett,  suing  his 
own  sister  for  properties  left  by  their  father,  was 
there;  a  doctor,  suing  his  patient;  an  undertaker, 
joining  with  a  milliner  to  recover  from  a  bereaved 
widow, —  they,  and  the  drink,  and  Jennie,  made  up 
his  day. 

In  justice  to  Mark  Watkins  it  must  be  conceded 
that  he  was  a  genuine  enthusiast  with  respect  to  his 
profession.  He  was  the  son  of  a  preacher  whose 
zeal  had  descended  to  his  child  in  the  form  of  a  fierce 
desire  for  success  at  the  bar,  and  as  the  curse  of 
inadequacy  was  not  upon  him,  he  seemed  in  a  fair 
way  to  realize  his  ambition.  Through  skillful 
strategy  he  had  concealed  the  skeletons  in  his  closet 
and  kept  up  the  appearance  of  the  man  who  is.  The 
luck  of  the  English  army  was  no  more  proverbial 
than  the  luck  of  Mark  Watkins,  attorney  at  law, 
upstairs  in  the  old  Temple  Block.  Up  to  the  time 
he  had  met  Helen  he  had  looked  upon  marriage  as  a 
form  of  legalized  sensualism,  but  this  horribly  gross 
conception  of  the  domestic  relations  was  breaking 
down  under  the  subtle  influence  of  the  pure  country 
girl.  The  passion  that  swayed  him  in  her  presence 
however,  lost  itself  in  the  shifting  scenes  of  female 
beauty  as  it  passed  to  and  fro  on  the  street.  Almost 
any  woman  who  was  well  groomed  and  rubbed  down, 
like  a  prize  animal  at  a  show,  attracted  him  for  a 
time. 

On  this  particular  occasion   it  was  Jennie.     He 


HELEN  125 

thought  of  her  all  day  and  at  night  ate  a  hearty 
dinner,  drank  several  times  at  the  bar,  and  by  ten 
o'clock  walked  the  cursed  hell  of  Los  Angeles  streets, 
until  he  came  to  the  house  where  a  light  shown  in 
the  window  for  him. 

He  knew  the  hall  and  the  stairway,  and  was  just 
putting  his  foot  on  the  first  step  when  a  shivering 
little  hand  touched  his.  Glancing  down,  he  saw 
standing  by  his  side  a  girl  of  not  more  than  six 
or  seven  years,  who  looked  up  into  his  face  and 
said: 

"  Mr.  Watkins,  mama  wants  to  see  you.  She  is 
sick  and  you  must  come.  Jennie  told  her  you  would 
be  here  to-night,  and  I  have  waited  to  take  you." 

He  knew  the  child  only  too  well,  and  he  knew  the 
mother  only  too  well.  She  was  a  Mexican  woman, 
once  young  and  pretty,  but  now  relegated  to  the 
past  in  his  affections. 

"  You  should  not  be  on  the  street  at  this  late  hour 
of  the  night,  you  little  gutter-snipe,"  he  said.  "  I 
thought  you  had  gone  to  live  with  your  uncle." 

Luisa  looked  at  him  with  pleading  in  her  eyes 
and  with  a  little  quiver  in  her  voice,  and  said, 
"Come!" 

"  How  far  is  it  ? "  he  questioned,  beginning  to 
soften. 

"  Not  far  —  just  down  here." 

As  he  turned  to  go  with  her,  he  saw  that  her 
clothing  consisted  only  of  a  nightdress  and  that  it 
gaped  open  in  front,  showing  a  flat,  childish  bosom. 

"  You  are  cold,  Luisa,"  he  said,  trying  to  pull 
the  garment  together. 


126  HE  LEX 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  have  been  in  bed  with 
mama,  and  she  is  hot  —  awful  hot." 

It  was  only  past  three  glaring  doors  that  the  child 
led  him  and  then  turned  into  an  alley  through 
which  they  reached  an  old  house,  standing  back  of 
a  harness  shop. 

"  Here  is  where  mama  lives,"  the  child  said, 
pulling  him  through  the  door  of  the  crumbling  old 
adobe.  Once  within,  the  house  appeared  much  bet- 
ter than  its  outside.  The  walls  were  whitewashed 
and  clean,  with  pictures  of  saints  here  and  there 
and,  in  a  niche  in  the  wall,  a  plaster  cast  of  the 
Virgin,  over  which  was  draped  a  drawn  work  scarf, 
patiently  wrought  at  the  expense  of  eyes  and  nerves. 
Over  the  back  of  a  chair  was  folded  a  bright  Indian 
blanket,  in  one  corner  of  which  was  a  svastica, 
woven  in  white  on  a  black  background,  the  blanket 
being  so  folded  that  the  great  symbol  was  conspicu- 
ous. 

At  first  the  room  seemed  unoccupied,  but  at  the 
far  side,  concealed  by  a  gray  curtain,  was  a  bed, 
toward  which  the  child  was  now  dragging  her  visitor. 
When  she  pushed  the  curtain  aside,  Mark  Watkins 
saw  a  woman,  so  weak  that  she  could  scarcely  move 
her  lips  to  speak. 

"  You'll  stay  with  mama,  won't  you,"  pleaded 
Luisa.  "  She  will  be  well  to-morrow ;  Jennie  said 
so!" 

The  lawyer  passed  his  soft  hand  over  the  fore- 
head of  the  sick  woman.  It  was  several  moments 
before  she  seemed  to  know  that  he  was  there;  but 


HELEN  127 

after  his  cool  fingers  had  rested  a  little  upon  her 
brow,  she  broke  out  in  disjointed  sentences: 

"  It's  about  the  child !  Will  the  sisters  take 
her?" 

"  Do  not  worry  about  that,"  Mr.  Watkins  said 
gently.  "  Try  and  go  to  sleep." 

"  I  am  sick,  oh,  so  sick,  and  I  must  know  about 
my  little  girl."  I  wish  you  had  come  sooner.  Will 
Sister  Simplicity  come?  Can  you  find  her  and 
bring  her  here  ?  Can  you  — "  her  speech  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  fierce  dragging  at  the  clothes  about  her 
throat.  "Holy  Mother  what  shall  I  do?"  she 
gasped. 

At  this,  the  child  crept  very  close  to  Mr.  Wat- 
kins.  Not  for  any  consideration  would  she  again 
lie  down  beside  her  mother. 

"  Tr'oor  little  soul,"  he  said,  "you  are  afraid  ? " 

"  I  only  like  to  lean  against  you,"  the  child  re- 
turned shyly.  "  Your  clothes  are  so  nice,  like  the 
priest's  clothes.  You  won't  go  away  until  it  gets 
light,  will  you?" 

"  No,  Luisa,  I  will  not  leave  you  alone.  Sit 
here  on  my  knee  and  go  to  sleep." 

The  child  snuggled  close  to  him.  He  pulled  her 
gown  about  her  thin  legs,  and  then,  turning  to  the 
woman,  he  asked :  "  Have  you  taken  the  medicine 
here  in  the  glass  ?  " 

She  moved  her  hand  a  little  toward  her  head,  but 
her  parched  lips  were  past  speaking. 

"  This  is  horrible,"  Mark  Watkins  whispered, 
and  as  he  said  it,  he  laid  a  protecting  hand  upon 


128  HELEN 

the  child's  head.  She  seized  it  and  kissed  it  and 
the  pathos  of  the  situation  brought  something  like 
a  tear  to  the  man's  eye. 

Long  hefore  morning,  the  woman  was  dead  and 
the  terrified  child  had  sobbed  herself  to  sleep  in 
Mark  Watkins'  arms.  Still  holding  her  snugly  he 
used  his  left  hand  to  fold  the  Indian  blanket  into 
proper  shape  for  a  bed  on  the  floor  and  then  tenderly 
laid  the  child  down. 

As  he  did  so,  the  sharp  profile  of  her  face  fell 
upon  the  whitewashed  wall.  He  paused  and  held 
the  child  for  a  moment  in  the  same  position,  then 
turned  her  head  backward  toward  himself,  then  back 
toward  the  wall. 

"  My  God !  "  he  cried,  "  that  is  a  profile  of  my 
mother!  Awake,  the  child  looks  like  the  dead 
woman,  with  the  same  eye  color  and  the  same  hol- 
lowness  of  cheek;  but  asleep,  the  face  is  that  of  my 
mother!  Identification  there  is  none;  proof  of  re- 
lationship there  is  none;  but  a  curved  line  of  the 
forehead,  a  straight  nose,  and  a  mouth  with  great 
power  of  loving  —  that  was  my  mother  and  that  is 
the  child!" 

Memory  of  the  gray  bird  that  had  flown  away 
so  noiselessly  when  he  stepped  upon  its  nest  near 
the  railway  station  came  back  to  his  mind.  He 
shuddered  and  closed  his  eyes,  trying  to  shut  out 
the  truth.  When  he  opened  them  again,  he  gazed 
first  at  the  sleeping  child  and  then  at  her  dead 
mother  and  was  filled,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
with  repulsion  and  rage  against  himself.  He  could 
remember  the  Mexican  girl  as  he  had  first  known 


HELEN  129 

her  only  a  few  years  back  —  very  poor,  very  inno- 
cent, and  very  kind.  She  was  pretty  and  confiding 
and  he  had  provided  for  her  needs ;  but  at  the  same 
time  he  had  left  the  trail  of  the  serpent  upon  her. 
With  a  dumb  knowledge  of  her  degradation,  the 
poor  girl  had  gone  from  worse  to  worst,  until  a 
few  short  years  of  the  brothel  had  eaten  out  her 
life.  As  the  lawyer  recalled  these  facts,  such  a 
frightful  sense  of  guilt  came  upon  him  that  he 
almost  feared  he  was  in  the  first  stages  of  that 
mania  which  sees  uncanny  things.  He  tried  to  put 
two  and  two  together  so  they  would  not  make  four, 
tried  to  make  himself  believe  that  the  drink  had 
made  him  sick,  but  to  no  avail. 

"  Some  day  I  shall  go  mad,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Some  day  the  theories  of  my  father  about  damna- 
tion will  come  true." 

He  rose  and  went  to  the  door.  There  was  no 
light  in  the  alley,  but  at  the  back  of  the  harness 
shop  was  a  misty  figure  that  seemed  in  the  dim- 
ness, like  an  apparition.  The  head  was  thrown 
back,  and  the  hands  seemed  to  be  clutching  at  some- 
thing in  his  belt.  The  ground  was  strewn  with 
scraps  of  leather,  which,  in  the  dampness,  gave  off 
an  offensive  odor. 

He  had  not  the  courage  to  speak,  but  he  gazed 
into  the  gloom  when  the  figure  muttering  as  it  went 
moved  away. 

"  Heavens !  "  cried  Mr.  Watkins,  "  I  am  as  weak 
as  a  woman !  " 

The  blood  throbbed  through  his  veins  like  liquid 
fire.  He  took  out  a  fine  linen  handkerchief  and 


130  HELEN 

wiped  the  beads  of  perspiration  from  his  forehead, 
then  went  back  into  the  room  and  stood  above  the 
sleeping  child. 

He  thought  of  Jennie,  the  woman  he  was  to  have 
met  that  night.  She  was  also  the  daughter  of  a 
libertine;  she  had  once  told  him  so  when  the  drink 
was  upon  her, —  told  him  wildly  that  the  sins  of  her 
father  were  being  visited  upon  her  head,  and  he 
wondered  if  this  child  of  his  was  not  predestined 
to  a  life  of  shame. 

Then  came  a  vision  of  Helen,  in  her  purity,  and 
stood  before  him,  Helen !  There  was  no  hope  now 
that  he  should  ever  speak  to  her  again.  To  tell  her 
the  truth,  he  would  not  dare;  to  deceive  her,  he 
could  not.  Whatever  else  he  did,  he  would  draw 
the  line  at  deceiving  Helen.  Better  that  he  should 
never  have  a  wife  or  any  other  child  to  inherit  his 
beastly  nature.  Better  that  he  give  himself  to  re- 
pairing the  damage  he  had  already  done,  than  that 
he  should  snatch  happiness  by  scorching  the  virtu- 
ous life  of  Helen.  It  cost  him  a  good  deal  to  screw 
down  the  lid  upon  this  coffin ;  but  he  did  it  —  all 
in  the  half-lighted  room  of  the  old  adobe,  with  the 
dead  woman  on  the  bed,  and  the  child  asleep  on  the 
floor. 

The  night's  work  used  Mark  Watkins  up.  He 
scarcely  felt  able  to  formulate  any  plan  for  the 
morrow,  yet  he  knew  that  he  must  act  and  that 
quickly. 

Before  the  child  awakened,  he  must  bring  some 
one  to  his  assistance. 

The   streaks  of  gray  were   already  turning  the 


HELEN  131 

east  to  yellow,  as  he  took  his  hat  and  went  out  very 
softly,  looking  back  to  see  that  Luisa  was  still 
asleep.  It  was  only  a  short  distance  across  the 
plaza  to  the  Church  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Angels, 
and  thither  he  hastened.  He  rang  the  bell  with  so 
much  vigor  that  it  brought  an  astonished  priest  to 
the  door  in  double  quick  time.  Fortunately,  Sister 
Simplicitas  was  just  coming  in  from  some  errand  of 
mercy.  It  was  a  lucky  circumstance ;  he  had  hadly 
reckoned  on  such  expedition.  The  priest  directed 
the  visitor  to  the  sister,  and  went  yawningly  back 
to  bed. 

Sister  Simplicitas  received  the  lawyer  with  the 
air  of  a  woman  whose  entire  character  rests  upon 
the  noiseless  conviction  that  she  is  divinely  ap- 
pointed to  her  work.  Her  face  had  a  moral  lofti- 
ness about  it  which,  had  it  not  been  marred  by  an 
expression  of  shrewdness,  would  have  been  beautiful. 

Mr.  Watkins  addressed  her  very  measuredly,  as 
becomes  a  man  of  the  world  to  a  saintly  woman. 
Would  she  go  to  the  house  of  the  dead?  Would 
she  look  after  the  child  ?  Would  she  see  that  mass 
was  said  for  the  repose  of  the  departed  soul?  and, 
finally,  would  she  send  the  bills  to  himself? 

Sister  Simplicitas  would  do  all  this,  and  much 
more.  She  had  had  long  experience  of  such  mat- 
ters. In  the  convent  behind  the  cathedral  were 
many  children  —  some  with  fathers  —  some  with- 
out —  all  cared  for  by  Holy  Church. 

"  Keep  your  own  secrets,"  she  said ;  "  these  things 
are  easily  arranged." 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  the  overwrought  man  to 


132  HELEN 

i 

find  bow  readily  Sister  Simplicitas  understood ;  even 
though  she  were  plotting  to  the  advantage  of  Holy 
Church,  she  was,  at  that  moment,  an  angel  of  mercy 
to  him. 

"  I  am  drenched  with  fog,"  she  said,  "  I  must 
go  and  put  on  dry  clothing.  Then  I  will  come  and 
take  the  whole  matter  into  my  hands.  I  will  bring 
the  child  to  the  convent  and  see  that  the  woman  lies 
in  consecrated  ground." 

Fearing  that  the  little  one  might  awaken  and  be 
frightened,  Mr.  Watkins  walked  briskly  back  to  the 
old  adobe.  He  had  never  before  seen  this  portion 
of  the  city  so  early  in  the  morning.  The  women  of 
the  street  were  still  dragging  their  soiled  skirts  over 
the  pavements.  One  of  them  addressed  him  famil- 
iarly as  "  Watkins."  The  reek  of  alkali  mud  was 
in  the  air;  a  spavined  old  horse  had  broken  his 
stake-rope  and  was  standing,  with  wistful  eyes,  be- 
fore the  hay  market,  while  everything  seemed  chok- 
ing in  the  cold,  damp  fog. 

"  By  Heaven !  "  the  lawyer  cried,  "  I  wonder 
how  low  I  am  to  fall !  "  Again  the  shattered  bird's 
nest  came  to  his  mind.  Had  it  not  been  a  forecast 
of  all  this?  He  could  feel  the  scratching  of  the 
terrified  little  bird  upon  his  shoe,  and  the  flutter 
of  the  gray  mother,  as  she  dropped  so  noiselessly 
out  of  sight.  The  unsparing  logic  of  his  mind 
reasoned,  as  he  re-crossed  the  plaza,  that  he  had 
made  for  himself  a  hell  to  live  in  and  that  he  must 
accept  the  consequences.  Nothing  that  his  father 
had  taught  him  about  salvation  seemed  in  the  least 
to  help  him  now.  Not  until  this  frightful  night 


HELEN  133 

had  he  realized  that  that  tameless  thing  called  sex 
had  its  anchorage  deep  in  eternity,  with  possibilities 
on  the  one  hand  of  immortal  fruitage,  and  on  the 
other  of  a  bird  of  prey  sitting  famished  in  the  midst 
of  what  it  feeds  upon. 

"  Oh  Heavenly  Father,"  he  cried  in  agony ;  "  what 
is  love  ?  Is  it  a  psychic  phenomenon  that  leads  to 
the  stars,  or  is  it  a  degrading  passion  that  leads  to 
the  abyss !  " 

When  Sister  Simplicitas  arrived  she  found  Mr. 
Watkins  leaning  dejectedly  against  the  wall. 

"  Holy  Mother !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  why  did  not 
you  send  for  me  sooner?  The  child  should  have 
been  taken  away  before  the  mother  died.  The  priest 
should  have  been  here  to  lay  the  blessed  wafer  be- 
tween the  woman's  lips." 

Mark  Watkins  grew  nervous  at  her  reproaches. 

"  Always  send  soon  enough,"  continued  the  sister. 
"  We  keep  the  means  for  bodily  relief  at  hand,  as 
well  as  materials  for  the  sacrament." 

Having  no  excuse  to  offer  in  reply,  the  lawyer 
kept  his  eyes  upon  the  floor  and,  after  a  short  time, 
he  left  the  place  and  went  to  his  hotel. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AT  the  Gospel  Swamp  camp-meeting,  the  settle- 
ment of  the  case  of  Alvarado  vs.  Helen  Andrews,  et 
dl,  by  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl  and  a  Spaniard,  was 
looked  upon  with  disfavor. 

"  Jest  a  trick  of  the  greaser  to  git  ahead  of  a 
poor  woman,"  was  what  Sam  Lindley  called  it.  But 
Benson,  who  was  holding  down  a  claim  high  up  on 
the  grant  line  of  the  Chula  Vista,  said :  "  It  was 
good  enough  fer  her." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  wimmen  being  so  durned 
smart.  No  sir-ee;  they  ought  to  keep  their  own 
place." 

"  There's  a  good  many  of  that  kind  nowadays," 
replied  San  Lindley,  "  and  between  them  and  the 
greasers  it's  hard  on  us  as  wants  to  do  right,  and 
git  along.  I  tried  to  buy  that  herding  horse  of  hers 
the  other  day,  but  she  wouldn't  talk  to  me  at  all! 
It's  nothing  but  a  little  bronco ;  but  I  needed  it,  and, 
don't  you  know,  I  couldn't  come  nowhere  nigh  get- 
ting it?  Why,  the  girl  jest  turned  round  and  went 
into  the  house !  " 

"  I  can't  deal  with  her,  neither,"  said  Benson. 
"  I've  been  to  her  time  and  agin,  to  try  and  git 
something,  but  she  don't  never  seem  to  want  to 
trade." 

A  few  nights  later,  the  old  preacher,  justice  of  the 
.  134 


HELEN  135 

peace,  of  Serrano,  came  over  to  Gospel  Swamp  to 
attend  prayer  meeting  and  was  put  upon  to  answer 
questions  as  to  the  legality  of  settling  the  law  suit 
in  so  simple  a  way. 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  a  regular  court  docu- 
ment, drawed  up  by  a  woman  and  a  Spaniard,"  said 
he.  "  Besides,  jest  look  at  all  the  fees  that  ought 
to  come  to  me  and  the  constable!  Mileage  counts 
up,  no  matter  if  we  do  s'peeny  by  mail." 

"  That's  the  idee ;  "  agreed  Benson,  "  it's  a  loss 
all  round.  You  ought  to  get  your  costs,  the  constable 
ought  to  get  his  mileage  for  s'peenying  and  we  ought 
to  get  our  witness  fees." 

At  this,  the  judge  assumed  a  judicial  air  and  said : 

"  I  try  not  to  be  an  extremist,  but  it's  my  opinion 
that  when  a  case  gets  started,  the  law  ought  to  take 
its  course." 

Jake  White,  who  was  listening  to  the  conversation, 
gave  his  trousers  a  hitch  and  winked  knowingly. 
He  was  a  lean  man,  with  a  long,  bony  neck  and 
hooked  fingers  —  a  man  who  could  neither  brand, 
nor  herd,  nor  drive,  but  who  testified  eternally  to  the 
survival  of  scandal.  He  turned  half  way  around 
and  sent  a  long  line  of  tobacco  juice  toward  the 
door,  then  looking  squarely  into  Billy's  face  drawled : 

"  I  suppose  them  Spaniards  got  her  up  there  just 
to  see  what  they  could  do.  Them  kind  is  bad." 

Billy  was  shocked.  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
and  went  over  to  where  his  mother  was  sitting. 
There  had  never  been  any  evil  talk  in  the  neighbor- 
hood about  Helen,  but  now  the  air  was  full  of  the 
brooding  that  hatches  it. 


As  for  Helen,  when  the  lawsuit  was  settled,  and 
old  Joe's  death  fairly  out  of  her  mind,  she  set  out 
to  take  a  long  rest.  She  tacked  a  piece  of  canvass 
on  to  a  stretcher,  gathered  up  her  paints  and  brushes 
and  went  and  sat  under  the  Three  Trees.  It  was 
one  of  those  days  when  genius  wooes  and  whispers 
through  the  leaves;  when  the  shrubs  break  into 
strange  blossoming  and  every  little  insect  hum  fills 
the  soul  with  rapture.  To  help  her  inspiration  she 
had  brought  with  her  the  little  landscape  which 
Father  Dumetz  had  painted  so  many  years  before. 
As  she  spread  it  on  the  ground  and  looked  at  it  she 
said :  "  Yes,  the  old  priest  had  the  true  art  instinct. 
Nothing  weak;  nothing  small;  nothing  pretty.  Is 
there  Nero  ? " 

The  dog  wagged  his  bony  tail. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  paint  anything  that  Mr. 
Watkins  would  like  ?  "  she  added,  patting  the  dog's 
ears.  "  He  knows  so  much  more  than  I  do." 

Nero  kept  wagging.  He  loved  to  hear  her  talk 
and  on  this  occasion  she  asked  his  opinion  many 
times.  She  took  her  canvas  and  with  a  piece  of 
chalk  sketched  in  a  background.  Creative  desire  in 
Helen  had  always  lost  itself  in  heavenly  visions. 
Her  great  love  embraced  all  that  was  beautiful  and 

136 


HELEN  137 

all  that  was  not  beautiful.  The  hues  of  yellow,  red, 
and  green  seemed  to  her  no  more  worthy  of  her 
brush  than  the  loam,  and  the  falling  leaf,  and  it  was 
her  intention  to  express  herself  this  one  day  on 
canvas  just  as  the  mood  swayed  her. 

But  as  she  was  trying  to  lay  on  the  misty  purple 
of  the  distance,  she  was  interrupted  by  the  crack 
of  a  gun  and  the  death  shriek  of  a  rabbit.  She 
sprang  to  her  feet  and  looked  toward  a  gray  cloud 
of  smoke  that  rose  lazily  over  the  willows. 

"  Poor  wounded  creature,"  she  cried.  "  Why 
must  people  kill  things  ? "  She  was  scarcely  over 
the  shock  before  she  saw  through  the  brush  the 
yellow  hair  of  John  Stanford.  He  was  holding  his 
gun  proudly,  as  though  he  felt  it  to  be  a  manly 
thing  to  break  into  that  soft  day  by  slaying  an 
innocent  wild  creature. 

"  Why  did  you  shoot  the  rabbit  ?  You  have  com- 
mitted a  crime  against  nature !  "  she  said. 

"  The  country  is  full  of  the  pests,"  replied  the 
young  man,  still  proud  of  his  markmanship  and  his 
gun.  Helen  paid  no  attention  to  the  answer,  but 
began  pulling  away  the  bushes  to  find  the  wounded 
creature.  She  had  not  far  to  go  ere  the  tracks  ended 
in  a  few  scattered  tufts  of  soft  gray  fur,  and  a  blood 
patch  on  the  sand. 

"  Can't  you  see  ? "  she  asked,  "  that  you  have 
taken  a  life?  The  rabbit  was  here  as  divinely  as 
we  are  here." 

Stanford  made  no  reply,  but  with  the  butt  of  his 
gun  pushed  away  a  branch  of  greasewod  and  there, 
beneath  its  fragrant  leaves,  lay  the  dead  rabbit,  with 


138  HELEN 

eyes  staring  wide  open,  while  at  her  breast  a  young 
one  was  nosing. 

Helen's  face  was  tense  with  questioning  wrath. 
"  Oh,  the  tragedies  of  the  little  wild  things  that  live 
in  the  bushes,"  she  cried. 

John  Standford  still  smiled  foolishly.  There  was 
not  a  hint  in  his  demeanor  that  in  cutting  off  the 
network  of  nerves  which  connected  the  wild  mother 
with  its  offspring,  he  had  done  more  than  show  his 
skill  as  a  hunter. 

Helen  took  the  little  creature  that  was  tugging  at 
its  dead  mother  and  wiped  the  blood  from  its  face 
with  her  handkerchief. 

"  Poor  little,  helpless  thing,"  she  said,  then,  turn- 
ing almost  fiercely  upon  the  man,  "  can  you  not  see 
the  cruelty  of  it  ?  " 

At  this  Stanford  made  a  dash  at  the  squirming 
ball  of  fur  and  called,  Nero ! 

Helen,  however,  rescued  the  young  rabbit  and 
placed  it  carefully  in  her  blouse  pocket.  John  Stan- 
ford made  an  experimental  motion  with  his  hand 
toward  her  waist,  but  the  girl  repelled  him  with 
such  fury  in  her  eye  that  he  walked  away  and  leaned 
with  his  back  against  one  of  the  sycamores. 

Without  any  further  conversation,  Helen  gathered 
up  her  painting  utensils  and  prepared  to  cut  the 
episode  short  by  going  home. 

"  Look  here,"  said  John,  shaking  one  leg  to  bring 
his  trousers  down  to  the  top  of  his  shoe,  "  it's  clear 
as  mud  that  you  and  me  can't  get  along." 

"Yes,"  said  Helen;  "  it  is  clear  as  mud." 

"  Well,  maybe  I  wouldn't  never  have  done  for  a 


HELEN"  139 

painter,  but  there's  some  things  that  I  know  more 
about  than  you  do, —  one's  rabbits.  They  chaw  and 
gnaw  and  keep  a  chawing  and  gnawing  'till  half 
the  trees  in  the  orchard  have  been  gnawed,  one  time 
or  another.  I've  been  thankful  a  good  many  times 
that  the  Lord  made  me  a  good  shot.  Shooting's  in 
my  line;  but  painting,  pshaw,  it  encourages  all  the 
pests  in  the  country.  There  ain't  much  money  in  it, 
either,  as  I  can  see." 

Helen  looked  at  him  almost  sadly.  "  No,  but  it 
makes  one  think,"  she  said. 

"  Thinking  is  all  right,"  he  said  a  little  doubtfully, 
"  but  some  men  think  too  much.  You'll  find  out  if 
you  keep  talking  to  that  man  Watkins.  I  heard 
rather  a  hard  story  about  him  the  other  day  when  I 
was  in  town." 

Helen  turned  a  withering  look  upon  her  com- 
panion. 

"  I  don't  see  why  a  man  without  brains  needs  to 
hate  a  man  with  brains,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh  now,  quit  your  fooling,"  he  replied.  "  I 
guess  I  ain't  quite  an  idiot !  " 

Helen  took  her  paints  out  of  the  box  in  which 
she  had  brought  them  and  put  the  motherless  rabbit 
in  their  place,  then,  taking  off  her  apron,  rolled  all 
her  utensils  together  and  without  even  a  "  good-bye  " 
turned  her  feet  into  the  path  that  led  toward  home. 

Thus  ended  the  first  day  of  Helen's  vacation  and 
the  second  was  no  better.  Burlingham  was  taken 
worse.  He  had  been  out  watching  the  balers  and  the 
dust  made  him  cough.  Instead  of  going  away,  he 
lay  down  on  the  grass  and  when  one  of  the  men 


140  HELEN 

noticed  him,  lie  was  wearily  holding  a  handkerchief 
to  his  mouth  to  keep  the  blood  back.  A  boy  was 
sent  in  haste  for  Mary  Jane,  who  was  in  the  orchard 
gathering  lemons.  She  ran  to  her  father  and,  raising 
him  to  a  sitting  position,  cried: 

"  Dear  old,  sweet  pap !  can't  you  get  up  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Mary  Jane,"  he  replied.  "  I  am 
powerful  weak." 

She  put  her  arms  about  him  and  steadied  him  to 
the  house. 

"  Pappy's  got  a  hemm'rage,  and  I  don't  know 
what  to  do,"  Mary  Jane  called  to  her  mother.  At 
the  sight  of  the  blood,  Mrs.  Burlingham  softened 
into  a  cry. 

"  Why,  pa,  what  done  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Poor,  dear,  little  old  pap,"  said  Mary  Jane. 
"  I  am  going  for  the  doctor."  At  this  she  left  her 
father  to  her  mother's  care  and  ran  into  Helen's 
room. 

"  Can  I  take  Mandy  ?  "  she  asked,  "  pap's  sick !  " 

"  Certainly,"  Helen  said ;  "  just  take  her.  She's 
in  the  barn." 

Helen  laid  down  her  work  and  went  directly  to 
assist  with  the  sick  man.  They  put  him  to  bed  and 
propped  him  up  with  pillows;  but  great  mouthsful 
of  blood  kept  gulping  up  into  the  towel  that  they 
laid  about  him  and  a  deathly  pallor  crept  into  his 
face. 

When  Mary  Jane  rode  into  Serrano,  Mandy  was 
covered  with  foam.  Half  a  dozen  men  relinquished 
their  seats  on  a  drygoods  box  in  front  of  the  grocery 
store  to  inquire  what  was  the  matter. 


HELEN  141 

"  Where  is  the  doctor  ?  "  she  asked  hurriedly,  "  my 
father's  got  a  hemm'rage." 

"  He's  in  the  saloon,"  answered  John  Stanford, 
who  happened  to  be  one  of  the  party.  "  You  jest 
go  right  home  and  I'll  bring  him;  my  horse  and 
buggy  is  around  the  corner." 

Mary  Jane  went  back  as  fast  as  she  had  come. 
Muscle  and  leanness  of  bowel,  with  a  girl  on  her 
back,  made  it  possible  for  Mandy  to  go  at  a  high  rate 
of  speed,  and  long  before  John  Stanford  arrived 
with  the  doctor  Mary  Jane  was  beside  her  father. 

"  They're  coming,"  she  said,  "  but  they  couldn't 
keep  up  with  Mandy.  Can't  you  tell  me  how  you 
are  ? "  Then,  catching  his  feeble  hand,  she  pressed 
it  to  her  cheek.  The  old  man  smiled  upon  her  with 
his  patient  blue  eyes  and  made  an  effort  to  turn 
upon  his  side,  at  which  the  cloths  fell  away  from  his 
mouth  and  showed  the  still  oozing  blood.  Mary 
Jane  groaned  at  the  sight  and  ran  out  to  the  gate. 
A  cloud  of  dust  in  the  distance  told  her  that  help 
was  coming. 

When  the  two  men  arrived  Mary  Jane  said :  "  Let 
me  tie  your  horse  and  you  hurry." 

They  obeyed.  But  the  vital  spark  in  Burlingham 
had  well  nigh  fled.  During  the  remaining  hours  of 
his  life  the  cold  face  of  his  wife  became  overspread 
with  something  akin  to  motherliness.  She  made  a 
motion  toward  her  husband  as  though  she  would  take 
him  in  her  arms.  In  a  tender  voice,  she  called  him 
"  father,"  and  as  she  beheld  him  in  this  new  and 
sacred  role  she  poured  out  upon  him  the  love  she 
had  so  long  withheld.  She  looked  at  the  great  clock, 


142  HELEN 

measuring  out  the  last  hours  of  his  life,  and,  for 
the  first  time,  realized  that  with  all  his  feebleness 
and  poverty,  he  had  not  missed  goodness.  His  love 
for  his  children  made  of  his  face  as  he  lay  dying 
a  divine  altar  and  drew  the  lines  into  correspondence 
with  the  harmonies  of  his  nature. 

The  next  morning  the  news  was  told  in  Serrano, 
and  soon  a  number  of  men  were  planning  for  the 
funeral.  It  was  agreed  that  "  Doc."  Stoner  and 
John  Stanford  should  go  over  and  lay  out  the  dead 
man. 

"  And  to  let  folks  know  that  we  are  a  Christian 
community,"  said  Jack  Hamilton,  "  take  him  a  new 
silk  necktie,  and  I'll  foot  the  bill,  myself." 

Especially  did  the  old  preacher-justice  look  upon 
the  matter  seriously.  "  We've  got  a  chance  now  to 
show  folks  what  Serrano  can  do,  and  if  we  don't 
distinguish  ourselves,  it's  our  own  fault,"  said  he. 

When  the  funeral  procession  started  from  the 
Andrews  place  next  day,  it  was  headed  by  the  justice 
of  the  peace,  driving  a  gray  mare  with  a  month  old 
colt  frisking  by  her  side,  while  close  behind  was 
the  grocery  wagon,  bearing  the  corpse.  Then  came 
John  Stanford,  with  the  mourners,  in  his  two-seated 
buggy,  and  behind  them  was  Helen  with  the  smaller 
children.  Still  further  down  the  line  was  Benson 
on  his  mule,  Ulysses,  and,  last  of  all,  several  wagon- 
loads  of  Gospel  Swampers  and  ranchers  from  Los 
Nietos. 

"  Somebody  ought  to  have  saved  a  place  for  us 
right  behind  the  mourners,"  complained  Mr.  King  of 
Los  Nietos. 


HELEN  143 

"  Somebody's  trying  to  show  off,"  answered 
Sproule,  of  the  same  district.  "  If  the  spraying 
does  the  business  for  the  trees  the  way  it  looks  now, 
we'll  have  a  church  of  our  own  before  long,"  he 
continued.  "  I  knowed  soon's  I  saw  the  Burling- 
hams  that  they  was  Presbyterians." 

It  was  nine  miles  to  the  graveyard  and  all  along 
the  road  parties  on  horseback  and  parties  in  vehicles 
dropped  into  the  procession,  until  it  appeared  that 
Burlingham  was  the  most  lamented  man  in  the 
country. 

At  the  grave,  the  justice  took  the  role  of  preacher : 

"  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  corpse,"  said  he, 
"  and  while  he  had  his  weaknesses,  being  a  Pres- 
byterian, as  you  all  know,  I  think  he  was  a  good 
man.  We  want  nothing  but  good  words  in  a  place 
like  this.  It  isn't  -like  a  court,  where  you  have  to 
tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth.  It's  the  right  thing  now  to  overlook  all 
differences  of  opinion.  The  deceased  has  been  a 
pioneer,  as  you  all  know,  and  has  moved,  little  by 
little,  all  the  way  from  Kansas;  but  now  he's  gone 
where  moving  is  no  more. 

"  I  would  speak  further  about  him,  but  he  has 
only  lived  in  these  parts  about  a  year  and  a  half, 
and,  before  that,  we  don't  know  nothin'  about  him. 
It's  a  great  breach  in  the  family  circle,  though,  to 
have  the  father  taken  away.  The  infirmities  of  the 
female  mind  is  such  that  it  needs  a  man.  There  are 
cases  that  I  could  mention  where  biz'ness  has  been 
snatched  out  of  its  reg'lar  channels  because  there 
wasn't  no  man  to  keep  things  straight.  And  I  want 


144  H  E  L  E  N 

to  say  right  here  that  biz'ness  would  bog  down 
mighty  sudden,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  men." 

Thus  he  rambled  on  for  an  hour  and  then  invited 
the  congregation  to  walk  around  and  take  a  look 
at  the  corpse.  All  agreed  that  Burlingham  had  never 
looked  better  in  his  life. 

"  That  silk  tie  just  suits  him,"  said  Jack  Hamil- 
ton ;  "  the  whole  thing  has  been  a  great  success. 
It's  been  a  Spread  Eagle  day  for  Serrano.  So  many 
of  our  corpses  get  freighted  back  east  that  we  don't 
often  get  a  chance  to  show  what  kind  of  folks  we 
are." 

Mrs.  Burlingham,  under  the  glamor  of  the  occa- 
sion, recalled  the  patience  and  goodness  of  her  hus- 
band, and,  with  brief  ejaculations  about  the  final 
scenes,  concluded  that  he  had  taken  leave  of  a  state 
of  existence  with  which  he  had  proven  himself  sin- 
gularly incapable  of  coping,  yet  was  now  safe  inside 
the  Golden  Gate. 

Mary  Jane,  like  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children, 
would  not  be  comforted.  Her  grief  cried  out  elo- 
quently and  John  Stanford  felt  the  appeal.  For 
days  afterwards,  her  face  haunted  him.  He  could 
see  her  as  she  rode,  pell-mell,  into  Serrano  after 
the  doctor  and  could  hear  her  voice  as  she  uttered 
her  pathetic : — "  Dear  old,  sweet  old,  pap ;  "  and  as 
he  rode  toward  the  Andrews  place  on  Sundays  to  see 
how  things  were  going  with  the  family,  a  fateful 
spirit  seemed  to  wait  for  him  and  tempt  him  with 
visions  of  home  and  children. 

Helen  was  the  first  to  notice  that  a  subtle  bond 
had  sprung  up  between  the  two  young  people,  and 


H  E  L  E  N"  145 

now  that  the  gods  seemed  to  be  working  to  bring 
them  together,  she  felt  that  she  might  assist.  She 
arranged  rides  into  town  when  the  seating  capacity 
of  the  carriage  was  limited  to  two;  and  invented 
occasions  when  John's  assistance  was  needed  with 
the  branding  or  the  shearing;  and  soon  love,  pro- 
verbially so  shy  and  timid,  peeped  in  at  the  windows 
and  around  the  corners  of  the  old  adobe. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AFTER  the  death  of  the  Mexican  woman,  Mark 
Watkins  went  to  his  bed  hoping  to  rest,  and  regain 
his  equilibrium  within  a  few  days ;  but  his  hurt  was 
too  deep  to  be  so  easily  healed.  His  appetite  was 
gone,  his  head  throbbed,  and,  on  Wednesday,  he 
sent  for  his  brother,  who  was  a  physician. 

Dr.  Mathew  Watkins  like  his  brother  was  a  man 
of  more  than  average  ability,  and  like  his  brother 
he  was  an  enthusiast  about  his  chosen  profession. 
Everything  from  a  bread  pill  to  a  dose  of  calomel 
he  administered  with  certitude  and  assurance.  But 
his  knowledge  was  of  the  body  and  not  of  the  mind. 
Although  he  had  made  long  and  patient  excursions 
into  anatomy,  he  had  not  discovered  the  secret  of 
sorrow  or  of  mental  distress.  In  the  dissecting 
room  he  walked  round  and  round  a  cadaver,  lifting 
a  bone  here  and  a  muscle  there,  but  the  mysterious 
lash  that  cuts  deep  into  the  soul  he  had  failed  ut- 
terly to  find.  Such  knowledge  as  he  had,  however, 
he  brought  lovingly  to  the  bed-side  of  his  brother. 

"  Hello !  Mark,  you  look  sick,"  he  said  as  he 
broke  into  the  room. 

"  I  am  not  sick ;  I  am  tired  of  life,"  said  Mark 
Watkins. 

This  answer  hurt  the  doctor.  He  went  forward 
with  a  quick  generous  movement  and  taking  the 

146 


HELEN  147 

hand  that  lay  weakly  on  the  bed,  said :     "  Tell  me 
what  has  happened.     There  is  something  wrong." 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  sick  man,  "  there  is  some- 
thing too  distressing  to  be  put  into  words." 

.  "  But  you  must  tell  me.  I  have  a  right  to  know. 
What  is  brotherhood,  if  it  does  not  give  us  the  right 
to  share  each  other's  woes  ?  " 

"Well,  Matt."  the  lawyer  answered  with  heart- 
breaking emotion,  "  it  seems  that  I  have  been  fool- 
ishly fiddling  while  Rome  was  burning.  It  seems 
to  me,  now,  that  Satan  tempted  me  and  I  fell." 

"  This  is  nervous  prostration.  You  need  a  tonic. 
You  must  not  swing  back  to  our  father's  doctrine 
of  total  depravity." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  already  proven  the  old  doc- 
trine to  be  true,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  If  two  and 
two  make  four,  I  have  missed  my  way.  The  only 
thing,  now,  is  to  wait  and  see  if  the  gods,  if  there 
be  any,  will  give  a  sign." 

The  doctor  did  not  quite  understand.  Religion, 
with  both  men,  had  long  been  a  thing  of  the  past. 
To  work  and  to  win ;  to  get  money  and  to  use  it ;  to 
keep  the  head  well  up,  was  the  only  rule  either 
of  them  had  pretended  to  follow.  Mark  was  the 
brilliant  one  of  the  family.  He  had  won  a  larger 
proportion  of  his  cases  than  any  other  man  at  the 
local  bar,  and  in  society  he  was  welcomed  wherever 
he  pleased  to  go.  This  seemed  to  the  doctor  all  that 
a  reasonable  man  should  ask. 

"  You  cannot  judge  of  yourself,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  stop  work  for  awhile." 

"  Your   diagnosis   is   not   correct,"    returned   his 


148  H  E  L  E  N 

brother.  "  I  think  I  can  gauge  the  quality  of  my 
doings  fairly  well,  and  I  begin  to  see  that  I  have 
left  a  blister  on  the  fair  face  of  the  earth,  whereas 
I  should  have  helped  to  keep  it  beautiful.  And  do 
you  know  I  blame  our  pious  old  father  for  it.  He 
never  taught  us  anything  concerning  the  tormenting 
riddle  of  sex." 

Dr.  Watkins  gasped  for  breath.  "  You  cannot, 
you  must  not  speak  so,"  he  said. 

"  Perhaps  it  seems  cruel,  but  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  we  never  had  any  training  concerning 
the  things  that  make  for  abstemiousness.  And  we 
were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  I  have  listened  to 
the  testimony  in  divorce  cases  enough  to  know  that. 
The  greater  part  of  family  trouble  comes  from  igno- 
rance of  the  laws  that  govern  parenthood.  Every 
where  we  look  there  are  homes  destroyed  and  diseases 
engendered  by  this  vice.  Do  you  not  find  it  so  in 
your  practice  ? " 

•  The  doctor  felt  the  force  of  his  brother's  logic; 
but  he  made  no  reply,  and  the  lawyer  continued, 

"  As  animals,  we  lived  through  it,  but  as  men 
and  women  of  a  higher  development,  we  must  find 
some  other  way." 

"  In  your  present  condition,  you  cannot  judge  for 
yourself,"  repeated  the  doctor  soothingly.  "  I  will 
prescribe  for  you,  and  in  a  few  days  you  will  feel 
better." 

"  I  think  I  can  judge  and  I  am  sure  my  doings 
have  been  somewhat  like  those  of  an  anthropoid 
ape." 

"  If  you  are  making  specific  charges  against  your- 


HELEN  149 

self,  tell  me  plainly  what  they  are.  I  can  help 
you  better  if  I  know  the  worst." 

"  They  are  simply  that  I  have  followed  the  dic- 
tates of  my  appetites,  and  never  saw,  until  it  was 
too  late  whither  they  were  leading  me.  I  have  de- 
fended men  for  burglary  and  arson,  whose  crimes 
were  white  beside  mine.  I  am  sure  you  know  the 
Mexican  woman  and  her  little  Luisa.  All  who  visit 
the  lower  part  of  town  know  them.  Well,  the 
woman  is  dead,  and  the  child  —  is  mine.  Luisa, 
and  probably  others  in  the  same  locality,  is  bone  of 
my  bone  and  flesh  of  my  flesh.  You  have  no  medi- 
cine for  such  cases,  have  you?  What  is  more,  my 
mind,  good  as  it  was,  reels  under  the  strain." 

Dr.  Watkins  was  astonished  at  his  brother's  con- 
fession. He  had  had  a  good  deal  of  experience  with 
women  himself;  more,  perhaps,  than  was  creditable 
to  him,  but  he  had  never  arrived  at  such  a  distract- 
ing climax.  Therefore  it  seemed  to  him  that  his 
respected  brother  had  either  gone  mad,  or  that  he 
was  in  need  of  a  wife. 

A  baffling  phase  of  the  case  was  the  fact  that 
his  brother  had  developed  one  of  those  old-fashioned 
changes  of  heart,  that  his  father  would  have  named 
conversion,  with  the  difference,  however,  that  con- 
version, as  he  remembered  it,  had  meant  the  ob- 
servance of  certain  rules  of  faith,  while  his  brother 
was  concerned  about  duty;  even  his  duty  to  his  ille- 
gitimate offspring.  The  physician  knew  too  much 
to  deny  that  his  brother's  charges  against  their 
father  were  true. .  He  could  remember  his  mother 
as  a  beautiful  woman  with  a  worn  and  weary  look 


150  HELEN 

in  her  face.  In  his  earlier  life  he  had  never  tried 
to  ascertain  what  that  look  meant,  but  now  the  prob- 
lem was  before  him  and  it  shocked  him  through  and 
through;  but  still  he  had  no  better  advice  to  offer 
his  brother  than  to  marry  and  drag  another  woman 
down  as  their  mother  had  been  dragged  down. 

"  I  have  thought  about  marriage,"  answered  Mark 
Watkins,  "  but  dare  I  take  a  wife  and  compel  her  to 
stand  by  my  side,  a  victim  to  my  appetites?  Tell 
me !  Oh  tell  me,  is  there  no  enchanted  path  where 
both  men  and  women  may  gain  the  mastery  over 
their  passions  ? " 

"  Your  question  is  a  very  great  one.  It  has  puz- 
zled wiser  heads  than  ours,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  Until  recently,  I  had  hoped  to  ask  Helen  An- 
drews to  marry  me;  but,  since  the  Mexican  woman's 
death,  my  children  have  laid  violent  hands  upon  me, 
and  their  claims  are  too  strong  to  be  denied.  To 
Luisa  and  others,  equally  mine,  I  must  give  the 
remainder  of  my  life,  and  close  the  case  with  an 
appeal  to  the  Great  Judge  for  mercy." 

Dr.  Watkins  now  really  thought  that  his  brother 
had  gone  mad.  He  could  quite  understand  that  the 
religious  zeal  of  the  father  might  appear  in  the  son 
in  some  form  or  other ;  but  it  seemed  to  have  passed 
the  bounds  of  sanity  when  it  drove  him  to  lay  aside 
self  and  journey  down  to  Los  Angeles  street,  seeking 
for  his  illegitimate  children.  Strong  emotion  was 
working  in  his  face  when  he  again  turned  and 
said : — 

"  You  are  taking  too  serious  a  view  of  your  trou- 
ble." 


HELEN  151 

"  "No,  no !  "  said  the  lawyer  with  emotion.  "  If 
I  am  in  the  world  only  to  increase  its  sorrows  and 
to  add  to  its  turmoil,  I  see  no  reason  for  remaining 
in  it" 

For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  the  two  brothers 
were  at  their  wits  end,  the  doctor  still  trying  to 
utilize  his  medical  knowledge,  the  lawyer  groping 
painfully  for  higher  ground. 

In  the  long  silence  that  followed,  Dr.  Watkins 
began  to  question  his  skill,  began  to  see  that  there 
were  things  beyond  the  scope  of  scientific  demonstra- 
tion. The  fog  hung  like  a  curtain  of  crape  against 
the  windows  of  the  room  where  the  brothers  sat;  but 
through  the  gloom  they  could  hear  a  preacher  shout- 
ing salvation  from  the  curb-stone. 

"  Let  them  sing  and  pray,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  Perhaps  they  have  found  the  jewel  that  we  have 
lost" 

"  Yes,"  admitted  the  doctor ;  "  perhaps  we  have 
been  too  much  absorbed  in  material  things.  Perhaps 
there  is  some  psychological  explanation  of  sex  that 
we  have  missed." 

When  Dr.  Watkins  returned  to  his  office,  some 
hours  later,  he  felt  as  though  he  had  been  standing 
over  the  operating  table,  with  a  patient  before  him 
who  was  not  likely  to  pull  through.  He  was  fond 
of  his  brother;  they  had  worked  hard  together  as 
young  men,  had  helped  each  other  through  college, 
and  were  now  the  only  survivors  of  a  father  who 
had  bestowed  upon  them  as  an  inheritance  a  creed 
but  no  tangible  science  of  life.  Up  to  the  present 
time  Dr.  Watkins  had  contented  himself  with  keep- 


152  HELEN 

ing  his  patients  alive  to  the  last  moment  by  studying 
them  and  experimenting  upon  them,  and  after  they 
were  dead,  ransacking  their  bodies  for  secrets  that 
had  eluded  him  in  life.  But  now  at  the  bedside  of 
his  brother,  he  began  to  realize  that  there  were  mys- 
teries entirely  beyond  his  reach. 

He  had  expected  Mark  to  show  signs  of  fear  at 
the  thought  of  exposure;  but  nothing  of  the  kind 
had  happened.  The  lawyer  rather  seemed  persuaded 
that  the  whole  world  ought  to  know  and  take  notice 
of  his  errors.  At  times,  he  had  seemed  almost  in- 
spired in  his  pathetic  charges  against  himself.  All 
the  evening  the  doctor  looked  eagerly  into  his  books, 
without  finding  anything  to  add  to  his  general  knowl- 
edge of  cases  analogous  to  that  of  his  brother.  Every 
day,  for  the  next  -week,  he  visited  Mark  and  pre- 
scribed first  this,  and  then  that,  but  finally  he  gave 
up  and  said: — 

"  We  have  come  to  a  point  where  we  must  learn 
the  meaning  of  this  vice  that  holds  us  in  its  grasp." 

The  lawyer  quite  agreed  with  him.  "Yes,  yes," 
he  said,  "  we  must  learn  it  by  heart ;  we  must  know 
every  line,  every  curve,  every  tone  of  it,  and  then, 
instead  of  dancing  like  a  bear  on  a  chain,  we  must 
compel  it  to  dance  to  us." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  begin  to  see  that  a  great  responsi- 
bility lies  upon  medical  men.  We  should  teach  the 
young  the  danger  of  sapping  the  best  forces  of  the 
brain  by  self-indulgence.  Sometimes,  in  my  better 
hours,  I  reach  toward  higher  modes  of  thought. 
Would  to  God  I  could  see  more  deeply !  " 


Sister  Simplicitas  did  a  good  thing  for  Holy 
Church  when  she  undertook  to  care  for  the  offspring 
of  Mark  Watkins.  The  pay  was  forthcoming  and 
the  end  no  where  in  sight.  There  might  be  a  goodly 
number  yet  to  come.  To  be  sure  her  affairs  were 
primarily  with  souls,  but  when  it  came  to  a  question 
of  cash  she  was  quite  able  to  manage;  so  she  made 
the  best  bargain  she  could  with  the  lawyer,  and 
undertook  to  keep  his  secrets. 

But  Sister  Dolores  had  an  ear  for  news,  and 
would  know  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  all  strange 
happenings.  She  put  leading  questions  to  good  Sim- 
plicitas, as  a  lawyer  does  to  an  unwilling  witness. 
Even  while  the  miserere  was  going  up  she  could  con- 
jure up  enquiries  about  affairs  that  were  none  of  her 
business. 

It  happened,  one  morning,  that  as  the  two  women 
met  in  the  nave  of  the  church,  Sister  Dolores  made 
some  inquiries  about  the  child,  Luisa,  and  when 
told  that  she  was  well,  followed  the  subject  with, 
"  What  think  you  now  of  Mark  Watkins  ?  " 

"  I  think  nothing  at  all,"  replied  the  sweet-faced 
sister.  "  All  I  ask  is  to  stand  at  the  door  and  serve, 
leaving  the  thinking  to  others." 

This  answer,  together  with  Sister  Simplicitas' 
formality  of  manner,  should  have  ended  the  con- 

153 


154  HELEN 

versation;  but  Sister  Dolores  was  persistent.  She 
argued  that,  as  a  child  of  the  Church,  Luisa  might 
to  be  made  to  serve  their  purpose  better  if  they 
knew  more  about  her.  There  was  always  the  pos- 
sibility of  dower,  and  there  was  always  the  possibil- 
ity that,  after  a  few  years,  the  slip  of  a  girl  might 
vow  herself  to  the  sisterhood,  in  which  case  there 
would  still  be  the  matter  of  dower.  So  she  followed 
up  her  questions  by  asking: 

"  How  much  does  the  child  know  about  herself  ? 
Did  she  see  her  mother  die  ?  Did  she  ever  mention 
any  father,  cousins,  aunts,  friends  ? " 

"  She  talks  very  little  about  her  past.  She  has 
never  said  the  word  '  father/  but  she  remembers  an 
uncle  who  took  her  once  to  a  sheep  camp.  As  I 
brought  her  asleep  from  the  house  where  her  mother 
lay  dead,  I  presume  she  knows  very  little  about  that. 
But  I  prefer  to  explain  what  I  know  to  Father 
Tomas,"  and  waving  Sister  Dolores  aside,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  the  dormitory. 

This  conversation,  however,  cut  Sister  Simplicitas 
deeply.  She  did  her  best  to  benefit  Holy  Church, 
and  she  loved  her  work ;  but  her  desire  was  to  be  let 
alone.  Sister  Dolores  always  made  her  uncomforta- 
ble wjien  she  tried  to  drag  out  of  her  the  gossip 
of  everyday  life.  If  anyone  must  compel  her  to 
speak,  let  it  be  Father  Tomas;  she  feared  not  so 
much  from  him  in  matters  of  privacy,  as  she  did 
from  Sister  Dolores.  Father  Tomas  had  a  way  of 
saying,  "  Love  God,  my  children,  and  keep  the^  heart 
free  from  inquisitiveness,"  which  inspired  her  to 
confide  in  him. 


HELEN  155 

With  these  thoughts  running  through  her  head, 
she  dressed  little  Luisa  and  took  her  down  with  the 
other  children  to  get  breakfast.  An  hour  later,  she 
went  to  the  priest's  house  with  a  message  for  him 
and  there  again  encountered  Sister  Dolores  in  close 
conversation  with  Father  Vicente.  The  good  father 
requested  Sister  Simplicitas  to  join  them,  and,  after 
a  few  moments  of  beating  about  the  bush,  asked  for 
the  whole  story  of  Luisa. 

It  was  an  awkward  moment  for  Sister  Simplicitas, 
but  she  found  that  Sister  Dolores  by  patching  and 
piecing  had  already  made  out  that  a  pretty  Mexican 
girl  had  been  provided  for  by  Mark  Watkins,  with 
the  loss,  however,  of  her  personal  liberty.  The  sister 
told  how  the  girl  had  accepted  the  conditions,  and, 
being  a  simple,  ignorant  child,  had  had  no  notion 
of  what  would  follow,  but  after  a  time,  Luisa  had 
followed,  and  later,  poverty,  and  still  later  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  where  women  sell  their  souls. 
After  this  recital  Sister  Dolores  looked  at  Sister 
Simplicitas  with  the  air  of  a  victor. 

"  But,"  Sister  Simplicitas  answered,  "  this  cannot 
affect  the  child.  All  are  alike  in  Holy  Church," 
and  then  passages  of  Scripture  about  Mary  Magda- 
lene gushed  from  her  lips.  The  Scripture,  however, 
was  not  what  Sister  Dolores  wanted.  She  liked 
better  the  details  of  the  sad  story. 

Sister  Simplicitas,  however,  passed  on  to  the 
duties  of  the  hour  without  further  remarks. 

So  far,  Luisa  had  rarely  spoken  of  her  home  life, 
but  about  noon  an  incident  happened  which  made 
the  sisters  think  that  the  child  had  some  gnawing 


156  HELEN 

thoughts  of  her  mother.  Luisa  was  standing  with 
other  children,  near  the  gate,  listening  to  the  mutter 
of  mass,  when  a  woman  approached  and  clamored 
for  the  privilege  of  holding  her  in  her  arms.  When 
once  Luisa  had  yielded  to  the  embrace,  the  lady 
asked  eagerly  for  information  about  her  own  child. 

"  My  little  girl  is  the  same  age  and  has  the  same 
hair  and  eyes  that  you  have,"  she  said,  "  and  I  have 
lost  her.  Are  there  other  little  girls  here  like  you, 
kept  out  of  sight,  shut  up  in  a  room  somewhere  ?  " 

Saying  this,  she  began  to  weep,  which  so  fright- 
ened Luisa  that  she  ran  away,  crying  for  Sister 
Simplicitas. 

"  Do  they  keep  little  girls  away  from  their 
mamas  in  the  convent  ? "  she  asked  as  soon  as  she 
could  speak. 

The  question  was  not  answered;  but  Sister  Sim- 
plicitas soothed  the  child  and  took  her  to  the  kitchen 
where  she  was  allowed  to  stay  and  help  prepare  the 
mid-day  meal. 

But  young  as  she  was  Luisa  was  frightened  at 
the  conversation  she  had  heard,  for  she  had  never 
been  certain  whether  she  herself  was  lost  or  found 
on  the  eventful  night  when  she  had  gone  to  sleep 
in  Mr.  Watkin's  arms  and  had  awakened  in  the 
convent,  surrounded  by  strange  children  and  sisters 
of  charity. 

That  evening  before  she  went  to  bed  she  asked 
Sister  Simplicitas  a  great  many  questions  about  her 
mother,  gaining  nothing,  however,  but  that^she  now 
belonged  to  Holy  Church,  the  rest  of  the  talk  having 
to  do  with  study  and  the  saying  of  prayers.  Next 


HELEN  157 

day  she  again  asked  concerning  her  mother  and  Sis- 
ter Simplicitas  spoke  very  firmly  to  her.  "  You 
must  learn,"  she  said,  "  to  think  about  the  convent. 
It  is  the  Church  that  is  now  both  your  father  and 
your  mother." 

At  this  Luisa  sobbed  bitterly  and  Sister  Simplic- 
itas seeing  how  the  child  grieved,  toyed  with  her 
straight  black  hair  and  finally  persuaded  her  to  run 
out  and  play  with  the  other  children.  After  this, 
Luisa's  Mexican  blood  forbade  her  to  ask  any  more 
questions,  and  she  became,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, a  child  of  Holy  Church. 

Father  Vicente,  however,  wanted  a  little  further 
information  concerning  the  financial  condition  of 
Luisa's  relations.  If  there  were  any  probability 
that  money  might  be  inherited  he  wanted  to  know  it, 
not  only  for  the  child's  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
Holy  Church. 

"  God's  work,"  he  reasoned,  "  must  go  on  through 
skilful  manipulation  of  money,  and  it  behooves  me 
to  keep  an  eye  in  that  direction." 

Stories  concerning  the  parentage  of  illegitimate 
children  came  to  him  as  naturally  as  water  comes 
back  to  the  sea,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  only  to 
watch  and  wait. 

It  chanced  not  long  afterward  that  a  number  of 
sheep-herders,  from  Los  Verdes,  came  into  town  to 
confess  their  sins  and  to  supply  themselves  with  food 
and  drink.  They  were  gathering  at  the  stations  of 
the  cross  and  praying  before  the  bones  of  St.  Fran- 
cis, when  a  man  of  unusually  light  skin  and  large, 
lustrous  eyes,  drew  off  from  the  rest  and  approached 


158  HELEN 

the  confessional.  It  happened  to  be  Eather  Vicente's 
day  in  the  box,  and  he  asked  the  sheep-herder  what 
troubled  him. 

"  I  accuse  myself  of  drunkenness  and  of  cruelty 
to  a  child.  When  my  sister  was  sick,  I  took  her  little 
Luisa  and  promised  to  keep  her  and  be  kind  to  her; 
but  when  the  drink  was  on  me  I  whipped  her  and 
drove  her  away.  And,  oh  father!  can  you  lay  a 
ghost?  My  sister  appears  to  me  at  night." 

The  father,  liking  the  smack  of  a  ghost  story,  said, 
"  Go  on,  my  son,  go  on." 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  a  tall,  thin  woman 
conies  to  me.  She  has  piercing  eyes,  and  she  points 
with  one  hand  towards  Los  Angeles,  while  the  other 
hangs  by  her  side.  She  looks  as  white  as  snow, 
and  all  around  her  something  like  a  thin  cloud  falls 
down.  Once  I  threw  a  shoe  at  her  and  the  head 
dropped  off.  Then  she  laughed.  Another  time  she 
spoke,  yes,  father,  she  spoke  very  plainly,  and  I  was 
frightened,  and  got  out  of  bed  and  ran  away  out  of 
the  house." 

When  the  story  of  the  ghost  was  all  told,  the  pen- 
itent concluded  by  saying,  "  I  am  a  poor  man,  but  I 
can  work.  Absolve  me,  good  padre,  and  I  will  go 
back  to  my  flocks  and  will  bring  much  money  for 
the  saying  of  masses  for  my  poor  sister's  soul  and 
for  the  support  of  the  child." 

Father  Vicente  now  knew  that  he  had  taken  up 
the  thread  of  Luisa's  story,  and,  still  having  an  eye 
to  the  finances  of  the  Church,  he  asked,  "  Do  you 
know  where  the  child  is  that  your  sister  left  ? " 

The  sheep-herder  replied  that  he  did  not. 


HELEN  159 

"  Do  you  know  who  is  the  father  of  the  child  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  the  man  answered  with  bitterness,  "  the 
American  lawyer,  Mark  Watkins.  I  saw  him 
through  the  window  the  night  my  sister  died.  He 
stood  by  her  bed  and  held  the  child  in  his  arms  and 
I  had  my  hand  on  a  knife  and  meant  to  kill  him; 
but  he  saw  me  and  I  ran  away.  In  my  heart,  I  still 
have  the  desire  to  kill  him !  " 

"  Pray  daily  for  grace  to  overcome  this,"  said  the 
priest.  "  It  is  a  great  sin  to  feel  revenge  in  the 
heart.  And  leave  the  child  to  Holy  Church.  She 
is  in  good  hands.  Go  in  peace !  " 

The  penitent  was  greatly  relieved.  To  be  ab- 
solved without  having  the  care  of  his  sister's  child 
laid  upon  him,  and  to  know  that  the  ghost  would  no 
more  trouble  him  at  night,  was  more  than  he  had 
dared  hope  for.  Father  Vicente  had,  indeed,  given 
him  happiness.  A  new  light  shone  in  his  eyes.  He 
straightened  up,  thought  of  the  dogs  he  had  left 
alone  all  day  with  the  sheep,  thought  of  the  bear 
skin  that  was  drying  in  the  sun,  and  then  bethinking 
himself  of  his  thirst,  slid  away  to  the  pulqueria. 

He  had  good  manners,  this  son  of  the  open  air, 
and  he  bowed  diplomatically  low  to  the  round-bellied 
Mexican  in  charge,  and,  throwing  a  four-bit  piece 
on  the  counter  he  took  the  gourd  and  drank  and 
drank  again. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  sparkling  draught  the 
herder  grew  liberal  and  called  his  friend  Moreno, 
who  chanced  to  be  passing.  "  Sacramento,"  said  he, 
"  it  is  good !  "  Moreno  quite  agreed  with  him  and 
agreed  also  that  the  dogs  were  able  to  keep  the  sheep 


160  HELEN 

together  while  their  masters  took  &  rest.  It  was  so 
good  to  see  the  lights  and  hear  the  music  of  the 
city,  and  the  wooden  tub  was  still  half-full  of  the 
juice. 

It  was  late  when  Father  Vicente  chanced  to  pass 
from  the  church  to  the  cathedral  and  saw  the  herders 
horses  still  tied  before  the  pulqueria.  "  Of  a  cer- 
tainty," he  said,  "  Luisa  has  no  prospect  of  dower 
from  her  mother's  side,  but  a  considerable  assurance 
of  support  from  Mark  Watkins." 

For  a  month,  no  further  thought  was  given  to  the 
little  girl.  Beyond  a  shrewd  guess  or  two,  her 
parentage  was  unknown,  except  to  the  few.  The 
kind-hearted  Father  Tomas  prayed  daily  that  the 
great  transforming  power  of  the  church,  which  could 
change  a  Magdalene  to  a  Madonna,  might  protect 
the  child,  and  the  ripple  occasioned  by  Luisa's  ad- 
vent was  fast  fading  out. 

But,  alas,  about  this  time  Sister  Simplicitas  ap- 
peared on  the  scene  with  another  child  in  her  arms. 
This  one  had  eyes  of  heavenly  blue  and  hair  of  the 
softest  curling  yellow.  Any  information  concerning 
her,  Sister  Simplicitas  refused  to  give.  Taking  her 
cue  from  her  experience  with  Luisa,  she  was  posi- 
tively dumb  in  the  case  of  the  blue-eyed  one.  This 
conduct  set  Sister  Dolores  off  on  another  mysterious 
errand  of  investigation,  which  ended  in  much  talk, 
and,  by  the  end  of  a  week,  gossip  was  at  its  best 
again.  Stories  in  which  the  heroine  loved  the  vil- 
lain flashed  from  ear  to  ear  with  feminine  unscrupu- 
lousness. 

Under  the  strain  of  cross-examination  good  father 


HELEN  161 

Tomas  admitted  that  there  might  be  a  resemblance 
between  Luisa  and  the  blue  eyed  one,  but  narrowed 
the  way  down  to  an  end  of  the  conversation  by  say- 
ing that  the  affair  was  not  within  his  jurisdiction. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII 

WHEN  Mary  Jane  married  John  Stanford,  there 
was  rejoicing  in  the  Burlingham  family.  All  her 
life  that  patient  girl  had  lived  under  the  shadow  of  a 
mover's  wagon ;  and  now  to  have  a  home,  a  home  of 
her  own,  was  a  new  and  delightful  experience,  while 
Mrs.  Burlingham  looked  upon  it  as  a  sudden  rise 
to  opulence. 

ISTot  much  did  she  know  about  John  Stanford  and 
his  ways;  not  much  did  she  care,  since  one  thing 
was  certain  —  he  was  not  a  mover. 

His  father  had  preempted  the  quarter  section, 
twenty  years  before,  and  on  his  death  he  had  passed 
it  on  to  his  son.  That  fact  was  sufficient.  True, 
some  of  the  land  was  too  steep  and  stony  for  the 
plow,  and  some  of  it  was  dead-white  sand;  but  on 
the  higher  levels  were  filaria  and  greasewood  and 
plenty  of  bee  feed.  John  Stanford  confidently  be- 
lieved that  if  he  held  it  for  another  twenty  years, 
the  rise  in  values  would  make  him  a  rich  man.  The 
fool's  errand  of  waiting  for  wealth  did  not,  in  the 
least,  disturb  him,  nor  did  it  occur  to  Mary  Jane. 

As  she  saw  the  happiness  of  her  daughter,  Mrs. 
Burlingham  looked  upon  Mary  Jane  as  having  been 
raised  up  by  the  Lord  to  lift  the  family  out  of 
poverty. 

There  was  no  great  grief  for  the  dead  Mr.  Bur- 
lingham, but,  as  time  went  on,  she  thought  of  his 

162 


HELEN  163 

virtues  and  saw  them  reflected  in  Mary  Jane. 
Slowly,  his  patience,  his  long  suffering,  his  love  for 
his  children,  came  to  be  remembered,  and,  slowly, 
she  saw  that  Mary  Jane  had  put  a  truer  estimate 
upon  his  character  than  she  herself  had  done. 
Under  the  influence  of  plenty  she  began  to  appreciate 
the  part  that  Helen  Andrews  had  acted  toward  her 
children,  and  to  understand  that  neither  the  sins  of 
omission  nor  of  commission  had  prevented  that  noble 
girl  from  keeping  an  eye  single  to  their  welfare. 
She  began  to  perceive  that,  without  the  slightest 
odor  of  sanctity,  Helen  had  done  a  work  for  the 
family  that  time  could  not  efface.  These  things 
she  pondered  over,  as  she  sat  among  the  geraniums 
at  the  back  door  of  her  new  home,  and  slowly 
drifted  toward  the  great  truths  of  existence. 

As  for  Helen,  when  she  found  herself  alone  in  the 
old  adobe,  she  realized  that  she  could  not  go  on 
without  human  companionship.  The  never-ceasing 
marvel  of  love  in  her  heart  cried  out  for  children. 
The  divine  look  of  motherhood  had  already  crept 
into  her  face  and  set  its  stamp  upon  her  shining 
hair.  The  society  of  animals  which  had  always 
given  Helen  so  much  pleasure  now  appealed  to  her 
with  double  force.  A  cry  from  any  thing  and  she 
ran  with  tender  hands  softly  to  touch  the  hurt.  She 
seemed  to  send  out  vibrations,  which  brought  out 
suffering  creatures,  as  she  took  her  walks.  From  a 
mouse  being  tortured  by  a  cat,  to  a  horse  with  a 
collar-worn  neck,  she  looked  with  unfailing  sympathy 
and  seemed  to  know,  as  with  some  clairvoyant  sense, 
what  they  were  trying  to  say.  The  hungry  coyote 


164  HELEN 

yelped  close  to  her  house,  and  the  rabbits  chased 
through  the  orchard,  but  she  laid  no  plans  for  their 
destruction. 

The  neighbors,  now  began  to  look  upon  her  as 
having  settled  into  a  recluse  life,  with  eccentricities 
bordering  upon  lunacy,  and  an  incident  which  oc- 
curred while  she  was  alone  confirmed  them  in  this 
opinion. 

Poor  Mandy  Jones,  the  little  bronco  who  knew 
the  tricks  of  the  desert,  knew  the  mirage,  knew 
quicksand  and  the  smell  of  water  from  afar,  fell  a 
victim  to  just  a  common  wildcat.  He  jumped  upon 
her  back  as  she  was  nibbling  under  a  sycamore  tree 
and  with  teeth  and  claws  cut  deep  gashes  along  her 
spine  and  down  her  flanks,  and  Mandy,  having  the 
ancestry  that  never  forgets  the  leap,  the  snarl,  the 
clutch  of  the  mountain  lion,  dropped  dead  with 
fright.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  wounds  were  not 
deep  enough  to  kill  her;  but  the  shock  stopped  her 
heart. 

When  Helen  learned  of  the  fact,  she  had  the  body 
of  the  pony  brought  to  the  little  graveyard  and 
buried  there  beside  her  parents  and  old  Joe.  To 
those  who  did  not  understand  her,  this  act  was 
sacrilege.  The  good  people  of  the  community, 
after  due  consultation,  decided  that  she  could  not 
be  in  her  right  mind,  and  gossip  was  in  every  house 
for  miles  round. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  jest  what  to  think,"  said 
Jim  Baker  to  a  neighbor  who  had  called  to  hear 
the  news.  "  I  bought  a  heifer  from  her  a  little 
while  ago  and  she  acted  all  right.  She  owned  up 


HELEN  165 

in  the  start  that  she  didn't  know  anything  about 
the  critter  and  said  if  it  kicked  I  could  bring  it 
back,  and  it  did  kick,  and  I  brung  it  back  and  got 
my  money  again  all  right.  But  I  don't  know  as 
that  proves  anything.  You  know  what  the  Bible 
says  about  wimmin,  and  I  always  thought  there 
would  be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth  fer  them  as 
tries  to  do  biz'ness  without  a  man." 

"  Oh  you,  Jim,  shut  up ! "  exclaimed  a  voice 
from  the  kitchen.  "  You  can't  talk  without  making 
yourself  appear  an  idiot." 

The  old  man  took  on  a  look  of  maudlin  surprise. 
The  near  proximity  of  his  wife  startled  him  like  a 
thunderclap  out  of  a  clear  sky.  He  took  off  his 
hat  and  gazed  into  it,  as  though  the  muddle  into 
which  his  loquacity  had  brought  him  might  have 
originated  in  its  crown ;  then,  replacing  it,  he  moved 
out  towards  the  gate. 

It  happened  that  John  Stanford  was  passing,  and 
it  being  generally  understood  that  he  was  an  authority 
on  all  matters  pertaining  to  Helen,  he  was  stopped 
and  asked  for  information. 

"  Of  course,  you  have  heard  about  that  Andrews 
girl  burying  her  horse  in  the  graveyard  ? "  began 
the  old  man.  "  Now,  what  kind  of  a  lunatic  is  she, 
anyhow  ?  " 

"  That's  too  many  fer  me,"  replied  Stanford. 
"  IVe  had  a  good  many  shots  at  her,  one  time  and 
another,  but  I  don't  pretend  to  understand  her." 

"  What  does  Billy  say  ?  "  enquired  the  old  man. 

"  Just  what  I  do;  that  some  days  she  acts  queer; 
and  then  again  she's  all  right" 


166  HELEN 

"  Some  day  she'll  get  a  man  that'll  make  her  be- 
have," observed  the  old  man. 

"  She  ain't  a-going  to  get  no  chance,  as  I  can 
see,"  returned  the  one-time  admirer  of  Helen. 
"  She's  so  durned  sot  in  her  ways  that  nobody  would 
want  her !  " 

Jim  Baker's  face  quivered  into  a  smile.  As  a 
bearer  of  news,  he  could  now  return  to  the  house 
and  feel  sure  of  his  wife's  greeting.  He  said 
"  adios "  to  his  neighbor,  and,  hearing  the  rattle 
of  dishes,  moved  toward  tjie  kitchen. 

"  Suppose  you  take  this  bucket  and  get  me  some 
water,"  his  wife  said  as  she  saw  him  coming.  He 
started  to  obey  her,  but  seeing  Stanford  in  the  dis- 
tance she  countermanded  the  order  and  said :  — 

"  Never  mind,  pa,  come  and  eat  your  dinner," 
then  added  encouragingly,  "  I  suppose  John  Stan- 
ford had  heard  all  about  the  horse  being  buried  in 
the  graveyard  ? " 

"  Of  course,"  replied  her  husband. 

"Well,  what  does  he  think?  Will  they  do  any- 
thing to  her  for  it  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  if  somebody  would  put  the  law 
onto  her,  they  might,  I  think  she's  l  looney.'  It's 
this  way,  a  woman  ain't  got  no  biz'ness  with  a  horse, 
nohow." 

"You  ain't  got  no  right  to  talk  that  way  about 
wimmen !  " 

The  old  man  put  on  his  hat  again  and  shuffled  off 
toward  the  barn.  His  wife  looked  after  him  with  a 
perplexed  expression  and  said  aloud  to  herself :  — 

"  Looney !     Well,  maybe  she  is.  I  don't  know !  " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SOME  weeks  after  the  burial  of  Mandy  Jones, 
Helen  received  notice  that  the  probate  court  had,  at 
last,  reached  her  case  and  that  it  would  come  up  for 
final  settlement  on  the  twenty-seventh  day  of  the 
month. 

How  long  it  would  take  to  close  up  the  business, 
she  had  not  the  least  idea,  but  she  made  arrange- 
ments to  go  into  town  and  remain  as  long  as  was 
necessary.  To  this  end,  she  wrote  Mrs.  Parker  and 
that  good  lady,  being  still  in  need  of  funds,  replied 
immediately  that  she  had  placed  at  Helen's  disposal 
the  best  suite  of  rooms  in  her  house. 

The  middle  of  the  week  found  Helen  again  in 
town,  with  no  definite  plan  except  to  stay  until  the 
probate  case  was  settled.  Mrs.  Parker  was  very  en- 
thusiastic in  her  greeting.  She  kissed  Helen  on 
both  cheeks  and  declared  that  she  had  been  fearfully 
disappointed  at  not  seeing  more  of  her.  She  had 
such  oceans  to  tell  her;  how  Mrs.  So  and  So  had 
done  this,  and  that;  and  how  Margaret  was  in  jail 
for  shooting  a  man  who  had  insulted  her,  and,  finally, 
with  a  little  hint  of  something  mysterious,  how  Mr. 
Watkins  was  not  so  popular  as  he  had  once  been. 

"  But  tell  me  about  Margaret,"  Helen  cried,  "  I 
should  like  to  help  her.  She  was  a  very  good  woman 
was  she  not  ?  " 

167 


168  HELEN 

"  Yes,  but  she  had  a  bad  temper,"  answered 
Mrs.  Parker,  "  and  I  should  not  care  to  befriend 
her." 

"  As  I  remember  sheilas  extremely  sensitive  about 
her  virtue.  I  have  heard  her  say  she  would  kill  the 
man  who  insulted  her.  It  is  an  old  Scotch  idea,  and 
while  I  deplore  her  act  I  can  quite  understand  that 
she  felt  justified,"  replied  Helen. 

"  It  is  one  of  those  cases  where  women  can  do 
nothing,"  replied  Mrs.  Parker.  "  You  would  not 
wish  to  be  seen  in  court  with  her  I  am  sure." 

"  I  do  not  feel  afraid  to  offer  my  services  to  a 
woman  in  trouble,"  answered  Helen.  "  It  may  be 
the  very  best  way  we  can  serve  the  community  in 
which  we  live." 

"  But  it  might  make  talk." 

"  Neither  do  I  care  anything  about  the  talk,"  re- 
plied Helen. 

They  seated  themselves  in  the  parlor  and  Mrs. 
Parker's  conversation  flowed  on  for  an  hour  without 
arousing  in  Helen  anything  but  a  confirmation  of  its 
weakness.  "  The  same  old  story  over  again," 
thought  Helen  as  she  went  to  her  room.  "  The  same 
lack  of  human  feeling.  The  same  pretentiousness. 
The  same  trifling  conversation." 

In  the  evening,  Mr.  Watkins  called  to  explain  to 
Helen  the  situation  of  her  affairs  in  court. 

"  There  is  a  murder  case  on  now,  but  when  that  is 
done,  I  see  no  reason  for  further  delay  of  your 
case,"  he  said. 

"  Is  it  the  trial  of  Margaret  West  ? "  inquired 
Helen. 


HELEN  169 

"  Yes,  that  same  woman  who  was  here  as  a  serv- 
ant when  you  first  came  to  Buena  Vista." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Helen ;  "  may  I  not  sit 
beside  the  poor  woman  in  the  court  room  and  com- 
fort her  a  little  ?  " 

"  There  is  need  of  good  women  to  console  per- 
sons on  trial,  and  sometimes  great  assistance  can 
be  rendered  them;  but  it  should  be  some  older  and 
more  experienced  person  than  yourself,"  he  replied. 

Helen  was  not  to  be  put  off  thus.  She  urged  that 
she  was  sure  Margaret  would  remember  her  and  be 
glad  to  see  her. 

Mrs.  Parker  again  expressed  her  disapproval :  "  So 
far  as  I  can  see,  it  would  be  in  very  bad  taste  for  a 
young  woman  like  you  to  appear  in  court." 

The  attorney,  seeing  that  Helen  took  far  higher 
ground  than  Mrs.  Parker  or  himself,  changed  the 
subject  and  began  to  discuss  the  probate  case,  ask- 
ing whether  she  could  swear  that  her  accounts  were 
correct,  whether  she  could  remember  certain  dates, 
and  whether  she  knew  where  her  boundary  line  was 
located. 

This  last  question  was  put  so  slyly  that  Helen 
laughed  outright. 

"  Oh,  that  —  I  can  never  forget !  " 

The  effect  of  her  rippling  laugh  was  to  make 
Mark  Watkins  feel  somewhat  like  a  rope-dancer  who 
dare  not  cast  his  eyes  downward  for  fear  of  giddi- 
ness. He  began  to  wonder  within  himself  whether 
he  should  be  able  to  conduct  this  delicate  business  to 
an  end  without  losing  his  heart.  There  were  ques- 
tions to  be  asked  in  court  that  might  seem  cruel. 


170  H  E  L  E  K 

How  would  it  do  to  ask  Helen  whether  her  father 
had  any  other  heirs  beside  herself. 

His  own  experience  had  taught  him  that  there 
were  skeletons  in  the  closets  of  some  people,  and  he 
thought  it  a  pity  to  try  to  drag  out  on  the  witness 
stand  anything  that  Helen  might  wish  to  conceal  — 
all  of  which  the  girl,  having  no  skeletons  to  hide, 
failed  utterly  to  see.  At  last,  Mr.  Watkins,  with 
the  idea  of  appearing  supremely  indifferent  handed 
her  a  bill  of  costs  which  Helen  accepted  with  indif- 
ference. 

Notwithstanding  their  business-like  demeanor,  the 
lawyer  was  conscious  of  every  inflection  in  Helen's 
voice  and  every  change  in  the  color  of  her  cheeks. 
It  was  fortunate  that  Mrs.  Parker  staid  in  the  room 
and  kept  up  her  worldly-wise  conversation,  putting 
out  by  its  very  feebleness  all  the  fire  that  lay  smoul- 
dering between  the  couple. 

At  last,  the  business  of  the  evening  was  finished 
and  the  case  of  the  Public  Administrator  vs.  the  es- 
tate of  William  Andrews  was  ready  for  the  ponder- 
ous machinery  of  the  court  —  no  obstacle  remaining 
except  the  closing  of  the  criminal  case  against  Mar- 
garet. 

After  the  lawyer  had  left  the  two  women  alone, 
Mrs.  Parker  felt  called  upon  to  inform  the  girl  still 
further  about  Mark  Watkins'  evil  reputation. 

"  They  have  found  two  of  his  illegitimate  chil- 
dren," she  told  her,  "  and  people  think  there  is  an- 
other, and  they  say  that  both  the  lawyer  and  his 
brother  are  in  great  trouble  over  the  matter." 

"  I  hope  they  will  find  them  all,"  answered  Helen, 


HELEN"  171 

"  it  seems  a  noble  thing  for  him  to  keep  his  children 
together  and  take  care  of  them." 

"  Oh,  but  you  do  not  understand  child !  It  is 
such  a  shock  to  society." 

At  this,  Helen  said  haughtily,  "  Society  is  danc- 
ing over  the  deepest  and  darkest  problems  of  life 
with  the  foolish  curse  of  inadequacy  upon  it.  It  lies 
abed  too  late  in  the  morning.  It  is  unloving  and 
unkind.  It  has  not  charity.  It  tells  lies." 

After  this  storm  Helen  retired  to  her  chamber 
and  when  she  went  to  bed,  dreamed  bad  dreams.  She 
thought  that  a  tidal  wave  came  in  and  drove  a  great 
ship  upon  the  rocks  and  that  over  the  roar  of  the 
breakers  she  could  hear  the  cry  of  Margaret.  In 
the  morning  she  felt  tired  and  ill  but  she  dressed 
herself  neatly  and  by  half-past  ten  walked  into  the 
court  room  and  took  a  seat  beside  th'e  unfortunate 
woman. 

As  she  sat  down  and  put  one  hand  lovingly  on 
Margaret's  arm,  Mr.  Watkins  became  more  than 
ever  aware  of  the  strong  personality  of  the  girl. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  she  radiated  a  light  hitherto 
unknown  in  his  experience  with  women. 

For  four  days  Helen  sat  beside  Margaret  and 
listened  to  the  testimony  in  the  murder  case  and 
on  the  fifth  day  heard  Mr.  Watkins'  eloquent  plea 
for  his  client.  All  that  was  possible  to  say  in  her 
defense,  Mr.  Watkins  said.  But  the  stinging  charges 
of  the  prosecuting  attorney  and  the  fact  that  Mar- 
garet showed  no  signs  of  repentance  clung  to  the 
mind  of  the  jury,  and  after  being  out  all  night  they 
brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ON  the  morning  of  December  first,  Helen  found 
herself  in  possession  of  her  father's  estate,  with  no 
further  hindrance  in  the  way  of  transacting  her  own 
business.  The  God  of  prosperity  had  been  good  to 
her;  the  property  had  increased  in  value;  no  dis- 
ease had  broken  out  among  the  stock,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  feed  upon  the  range. 

After  the  order  of  the  court  had  been  entered, 
there  was  a  little  explanation  of  obscure  points,  a 
little  counting  up  of  costs,  an  exuberance  of  congrat- 
ulations, and  then  no  more  of  the  case  of  the  Public 
Administrator  vs.  the  estate  of  William  Andrews. 

But,  by  a  strange  providence,  just  as  Helen 
thought  that  she  was  through  with  law  and  lawyers, 
Margaret's  case  seemed  to  come  into  her  keeping. 
The  frightful  predicament  into  which  the  poor 
woman  had  fallen  made  Helen  feel  that  she  could 
not  return  to  the  ranch  without  doing  something 
to  help  her  unfortunate  friend.  There  seemed,  how- 
ever, to  be  no  way  to  proceed  except  to  go  back  to 
the  office  of  Mr.  Watkins  and  ask  for  advice. 

As  Helen  went  up  the  stairs  that  led  to  his  office, 
she  felt  a  little  timid  lest  her  disregard  for  his 
advice  in  attending  Margaret's  trial  should  cause 
him  to  refuse  his  assistance.  But,  when  she  entered 
the  room  and  felt  the  steady  clasp  of  his  hand,  she 

172 


HELEN  173 

was  glad  that  she  had  had  the  courage  to  follow  her 
own  conviction  in  the  matter. 

"  I  have  come/'  she  said,  "  to  see  if  anything  can 
be  done  for  poor  Margaret  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is  enough  to  be  done;  a  lawyer 
is  never  at  the  end  of  his  resources,"  he  replied. 

She  smiled  a  little  mischievously.  "  Not  even 
when  his  client  assumes  the  management  of  the 
case  ? " 

"  They  often  do  that,"  he  said,  "  but  it  is  seldom 
that  they  succeed  as  well  as  you  did." 

"  I  feel  like  trying  it  again,"  replied  Helen. 
"  What  can  we  do  for  the  poor  woman  ?  " 

Mr.  Watkins  suggested  a  new  trial,  weeks  and 
months  of  delay,  a  change  of  venue,  popular  senti- 
ment to  be  manufactured,  and  so  on. 

"  I  did  not  realize  how  much  could  be  done,"  in- 
terrupted Helen. 

After  a  little  consideration,  the  lawyer  resumed : 
"  Probably  the  most  practical  thing  is  to  get  her  out 
of  jail  on  bail,  and  then  apply  for  a  new  trial." 

"  Tell  me  about  bail ;  can  a  woman  sign  a  bail- 
bond?" 

"  Yes.  But  Margaret  might  run  away,  and  in 
that  case  you  would  lose  the  amount  of  the  bond." 

"  Oh,  no,"  interrupted  Helen,  "  Margaret  would 
not  do  that.  I  should  love  her  and  comfort  her  and 
that  would  make  it  impossible  for  her  to  run  away. 
Many  a  time  I  have  tamed  wild  things;  why  can  I 
not  tame  a  woman  ?  " 

The  great  depths  of  thought  which  Helen  uncon- 
sciously touched  in  this  conversation  appeared  to 


174  HELEN" 

the  lawyer  as  the  key  to  many  doors  that  he,  in  his 
life-work,  had  not  been  able  to  unlock.  The  thought 
seemed  to  fill  him  once  more  with  the  madness  of 
worship  for  Helen.  It  was  some  moments  before 
he  spoke,  but  he  finally  said,  "  The  bond  requires 
two  signatures." 

Helen  dropped  her  eyes,  and  he  thought  that  she 
expressed  disappointment. 

"  Shall  I  sign  it  with  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

Helen  looked  at  him  more  searchingly  than  she 
had  ever  done  before.  His  whole  figure  seemed  im- 
bued with  a  sort  of  nobility.  Whatever  he  might 
have  done  in  the  past,  she  saw  that  he  was  not  the 
wreck  of  unruly  passions  that  Mrs.  Parker  had 
represented  him  to  be.  While  these  thoughts  were 
running  through  her  mind,  the  lawyer  had  opened  a 
drawer,  taken  out  a  blank  bail-bond  and  was  care- 
fully filling  in  the  spaces.  Then,  taking  his  hat,  he 
said: 

"  I  cannot  go  further  without  ascertaining  the 
amount  to  be  inserted.  If  the  judge  fixes  a  reason- 
able sum,  I  will  advise  you  to  sign  it  and  I  will  sign 
it  myself.  If  not,  there  are  other  ways  to  pro- 
ceed." 

He  went  out,  and  Helen  took  up  a  paper  and  tried 
to  read;  but  she  was  too  filled  with  conflicting 
thoughts  to  keep  her  mind  on  the  pages,  so  she  laid 
the  sheet  aside  and  waited  with  folded  hands. 

The  judge  proved  to  be  lenient  and  fixed  the  bond 
at  two  thousand  dollars,  which  was  easily  within 
reach  of  both  Helen  and  the  lawyer. 

"  What  next  ? "  he  asked,  when  both  had  signed 


HELEN  175 

the  document.  "  I  suppose  you  will  take  your  pro- 
tege to  the  ranch  and  leave  me  to  work  out  the  de- 
tails." 

"  Yes,"  Helen  returned ;  "  by  this  time  there  are 
many  things  waiting  my  attention." 

"  But  bail-bonds  need  looking  after,"  said  Mark 
Watkins.  "  When  may  I  come  out  to  see  whether 
Margaret  has  run  away  and  forfeited  the  money  ? " 

"  Oh,  any  time.  We  country  people  make  no  cere- 
mony about  days  at  home.  We  are  always  at  home, 
except  when  we  go  out,  and  then  we  expect  our 
guests  to  put  their  horses  in  the  barn  and  wait  for 
us." 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

Mr.  Watkins  now  began  to  understand  what  it 
meant  to  deal  with  a  woman  on  terms  of  perfect 
equality.  All  the  little  nothings  that  had  usually 
gone  to  make  up  conversation  with  the  fair  sex  he 
abandoned  and  treated  Helen  as  he  would  have 
treated  a  man  whom  he  respected.  In  no  other  way 
could  she  understand;  in  no  other  way  was  he  wil- 
ling to  talk  to  her. 

After  a  little  further  conversation,  in  which  he 
explained  to  her  the  risks  and  duties  of  a  bondsman, 
they  walked  together  to  the  jail.  Both  looked  pre- 
cisely what  they  were.  Any  judge  of  human  nature 
could  see  that  they  stood  out  boldly  among  men  as 
one  couple  in  a  thousand. 

She  walked  by  his  side  with  a  cloud-like  beauty 
about  her  head  that  caused  every  one  to  brighten  as 
she  passed;  he  strode  like  a  master  workman  who 
compels  things  to  come  his  way. 


176  H  E  L  E  1ST 

When  they  reached  the  jail,  they  found  Margaret 
broken  and  discouraged.  Being  fully  persuaded 
that  she  was  justified  in  what  she  had  done,  she 
could  not  understand  why  she  had  not  been  ac- 
quitted. 

Helen  embraced  the  woman  as  a  mother  embraces 
her  own,  and  said: 

"  I  have  come  for  you.  You  shall  go  with  me  to 
the  ranch  and  begin  life  over  again.  With  nature 
and  the  animals,  we  can  live  and  forget  this  fright- 
ful ordeal.  Everything  in  the  country  makes  for 
peace.  People  are  not  so  painfully  respectable  as 
they  are  in  town,  nor  so  cruel.  There  we  will  be  a 
law  unto  ourselves,  with  you  and  I  as  judge  and 
jury." 

Then,  turning  to  Mr.  Watkins,  she  asked,  half- 
ironically,  "  Would  not  a  richer  woman  have  been 
acquitted  for  doing  what  Margaret  did  ?  " 

The  lawyer  did  not  answer;  but,  turning  to  Mar- 
garet, explained  what  had  been  done  for  her  and  as- 
sured her  that  there  was  still  hope. 

Margaret  interrupted  him  with  her  sobs.  When 
she  was  sufficiently  calm,  he  put  Helen  and  her 
charge  into  a  closed  carriage  and  drove  with  them 
to  the  depot. 

As  the  train  rolled  away,  heaven  came  very  near 
to  both  women.  The  lover  of  humanity  was  in 
heaven,  because  she  loved;  the  torn  and  tortured 
one,  because  she  was  the  recipient  of  that  love. 
There  was  no  failure  of  the  balance,  everything  was 
proving  true,  as  Helen  had  guessed  it  would  when 


HELEN  177 

she  Had  pondered  so  lovingly  upon  the  poor  woman's 
trouble. 

Mark  Watkins  went  back  to  his  office  and  thought 
long  over  the  events  of  the  morning.  Much  as  he 
believed  in  the  basic  principles  of  law,  he  now  began 
doubting  its  practical  application  to  the  every-day 
events  of  life.  Helen's  question  "  Would  not  a 
richer  woman  than  Margaret  have  been  acquitted  ? " 
stung  him.  He  felt  strangely  moved  to  hear  the 
honor  of  his  profession  questioned  by  a  mere  girl; 
yet  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  the  fact  that 
there  had  been  something  like  a  failure  of  justice 
in  Margaret's  case. 

The  frame  of  mind  in  which  he  found  himself 
was  not  conducive  to  work,  so  he  laid  aside  a  pile 
of  documents  that  he  was  working  on,  and,  taking  his 
hat,  walked  over  to  his  brother's  office.  Finding  no 
patients  there,  after  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  he 
launched  out  on  the  subject  nearest  his  heart. 

"  There  are  problems  in  life  that  you  and  I  have 
missed,  Matt. —  problems  that,  with  all  our  learning, 
we  do  not  understand  as  well  as  that  slip  of  a  girl 
from  the  country." 

"  Yes  ?  "  the  doctor  asked  curiously,  "  what  are 
they  ? " 

"  I  begin  to  think  they  have  to  do  with  just  simple 
love !  I  begin  to  think  that  Miss  Andrews  has  trans- 
muted that,  which  in  the  grosser  form  is  sex-love, 
into  its  prototype,  love  for  humanity,  and  that  she 
practices  law  and  medicine  and  everything  better 
than  we  do.  If  this  be  true  she  is  avant  courier  of 


178  HELEN 

a  new  era.  An  era  when  all  the  demons  that  we 
know  now  will  hide  themselves  in  shame." 

After  a  long  pause  he  continued  thoughtfully :  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  there  is  a  realm  in  which  all  our 
intellectual  training  is  no  better  than  the  cunning  of 
a  fox." 

"  I  am  coming  around  to  something  like  that  opin- 
ion myself,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  yet  I  fear  that  our 
civilization  is  far  from  being  able  to  put  it  in  prac- 
tice." 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  it  is  encouraging  that  we  have 
one  case.  Helen  does  things  out  of  the  sheer  love 
of  doing  them,  while  I  quote  law  and  precedent,  and 
draw  ponderously  correct  papers,  only  to  accomplish 
a  failure  of  justice." 

For  a  long  time  the  two  men  were  silent ;  then  the 
doctor  said: 

"  If  Miss  Andrews  lives  in  a  world  so  far  removed 
from  ours,  you  would  hardly  risk  marrying  her, 
would  you  ? " 

"  Not  unless  I  can  see  farther  than  I  do  now  into 
her  philosophy  of  thought.  Tell  me,  do  you  think 
it  possible  for  men  to  establish  relationships  with 
women  that  shall  be  unmixed  with  desire  ?  " 

"  India  has  idols  representing  these  high  ideals, 
and  her  poets  and  philosophers  have  always  kept 
such  a  millennium  in  view^  But  we  are  the  product 
of  a  training  so  different  from  theirs,  that  I  hardly 
dare  say  what  could  be  done,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  I  begin  to  realize  that  all  the  heavens  and  all 
the  hells  of  human  existence  are  found  in  the  laws 


HELE^  179 

that  govern  the  association  of  men  and  women," 
continued  the  lawyer. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  brother.  "  Physicians,  more 
than  any  one  else,  are  conscious  of  the  forces  that 
scatter  mental  and  physical  uncleanness  through  the 
body,  but  they  have  not  seen  the  importance  of  ad- 
vising their  patients.  Perhaps  we  are  as  guilty  of 
the  sin  of  omission  as  our  father  was." 

Thus  did  the  brothers  suffer  for  their  sins.  Thus 
did  they  grope  toward  higher  levels  of  thought. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  arid  season  was  at  its  height  when  Helen  and 
Margaret  arrived  at  the  ranch.  The  atmosphere 
seemed  one  all-embracing  sea  of  evanescent  color, 
into  which  Margaret  gazed  questioningly,  as  though 
she  feared  that  it  might,  at  any  moment,  turn  to 
ashes. 

The  roomy  old  house,  the  wide  veranda,  where 
more  or  less  of  animal  life  was  always  resting  peace- 
fully ;  and,  above  all,  the  presiding  genius  of  Helen, 
made  Margaret  feel  as  though  she  were  in  some  en- 
chanted dream. 

"  I  am  in  heaven,"  she  said  to  Helen  one  day, 
"  and  trying  to  make  myself  believe  that  it  will 
last." 

Helen  saw  and  understood.  Better  than  the 
judge  —  better  than  the  jury,  did  this  simple  coun- 
try girl  see  and  know  how  to  deal  with  the  case  she 
had  in  hand.  The  experiences  of  the  trial  had 
driven  the  last  vestige  of  belief  in  God  from  Mar- 
garet's heart,  but  when  Helen,  tripping  lightly,  with 
no  cumbersome  theories  about  sin  or  crime,  reached 
out  her  hand,  —  lo !  —  salvation  began. 

"  It  is  only  when  I  think  of  the  injustice  of  that 
awful  prosecuting  attorney  that  I  feel  an  almost 
uncontrollable  bitterness.  It  is  then  that  I  am  doubt- 

180 


HELEN  181 

ful  whether  I  can  keep  revenge  from  creeping  into 
my  heart." 

"  Forget  it  all,"  Helen  returned.  "  Wipe  out  the 
whole  past;  begin  anew.  Life  is  worth  living,  and 
the  world  has  need  of  those  who  have  suffered." 

"  Your  goodness,  alone,  will  help  me  to  try,"  be- 
gan Margaret. 

"  No,  no.  Do  not  make  that  mistake.  You  have 
not  begun  to  think  how  great  you  are!  You  have 
not  realized  that  you  are  here  by  divine  appoint- 
ment Look  upon  the  trial  as  an  educator  and  try 
to  find  its  meaning." 

"  I  can  never  understand  all  you  say.  No  one 
has  ever  spoken  like  this  to  me  before,"  Margaret 
answered. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  how  to  understand.  Begin  to- 
day to  do  all  in  your  power  for  those  who  suffer, 
and  by  this,  I  mean,  for  suffering  animals  as  well 
as  for  suffering  people.  Let  me  be  your  doctor  and 
prescribe  for  you.  Every  step  you  take,  you  will 
find  applicants  for  your  good  offices.  Minister  to 
them.  At  this  very  moment  there  is  a  tortured 
creature  in  the  corral,  waiting  for  us  to  come  and  do 
what  we  can  for  its  relief.  Wherever  we  go,  there 
is  something  needing  us;  something  looking  to  us 
for  help.  I  even  go  further,  and  promise  you  that 
your  joy  will  be  all  the  more  for  having  had  to  do 
with  evil.  Anger,  revenge,  and  crime,  are  the  mate- 
rials out  of  which  come  our  greatest  achievements. 
They  become  our  crown  of  glory,  when  they  are  de- 
prived of  their  sting." 

"  Now,  I  begin  to  see,"  said  Margaret,  "  and  I 


182  HELEN 

shall  try  every  day  to  find  something  that  needs  me, 
even  as  I  need  you." 

"  That  is  the  new  religion,"  said  Helen ;  "  let  us 
try  for  it." 

They  joined  hands  and  with  cloths  and  basins 
went  to  that  part  of  the  barn  which  had  come  to  be 
called  the  "hospital."  There  they  found  a  colt 
that  had  been  frightfully  cut  by  the  cruel  barbed 
wire.  After  a  hard  hour's  work  they  left  the  ani- 
mal somewhat  relieved. 

As  they  moved  away  there  came  around  the  nos- 
trils and  lips  of  the  poor  creature  a  dozen  soft  lines. 

"  See,"  said  Helen ;  "  he  would  speak  to  us  if  he 
could." 

As  Margaret  looked  back  a  little  whinny  came 
from  the  colt,  and  Helen,  turning,  put  her  hand  on 
its  soft  nose  and  said : 

"  Yes.  I  understand  you.  Gratitude  is  in  every 
creature;  animals  as  well  as  human  beings  are  pos- 
sessed of  it." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  he  understands  ? "  said 
Margaret. 

"  I  know  it.  I  have  lived  too  long  with  animals 
not  to  know  their  language." 

"  It  makes  me  feel  a  responsibility  that  I  never 
felt  before,"  said  Margaret. 

"  That  is  a  true  psychological  growth,"  replied 
Helen.  "  To  feel  our  responsibility  toward  every- 
thing that  has  life  and  to  act  accordingly  is  to  come 
very  near  to  God." 

They  passed  on  to  a  hen  with  a  dozen  newly 
hatched  chickens,  Margaret  taking  the  fluffy  little 


HELEN  183 

balls  tenderly  against  her  cheek.  Helen  noticed  this 
act  and  seeing  how  the  mother  instinct  was  growing 
put  into  Margaret's  hand  the  things  that  needed  the 
tenderest  care. 

It  was  not  long,  of  course,  before  Mark  Watkins 
grew  anxious  about  the  bail-bond  and  again  came 
out  to  the  ranch  to  see  in  person  that  Margaret  had 
not  run  away.  The  ranch  seemed  to  him  such  a  fit 
place  for  watching  over  a  bail-bond,  especially  as  a 
preacher  of  newer  and  nobler  ideas  was  there,  a 
preacher  who  was  young  and  beautiful,  as  well  as 
wise! 

When  he  arrived  Helen  was  in  the  orchard.  He 
saw  her  leaning  gracefully  against  a  tree.  Her 
eyes  were  closed  and  she  seemed  listening  to  the 
song  of  a  bird.  As  he  walked  toward  her  there  came 
over  him  the  mystic  spell  which  love  and  untram- 
meled  space  beget.  Far  out  in  the  great  quivering 
distance  he  seemed  to  hear  voices  and  to  catch 
glimpses  of  an  army  with  banners.  He  moved 
slowly.  Perhaps  it  were  sacrilege  to  break  the 
charm;  but  Helen  heard  him  and  coming  forward 
with  a  quick,  impulsive  greeting  said: 

"  I  am  glad  you  came.  There  is  something  very 
clear  and  vibrant  in  the  air  to-day." 

"  Yes.  I  heard  snatches  of  your  desert  music  as 
I  came  down  the  path." 

"  How  beautiful !  The  wild  trumpeter  does  not 
give  out  his  song  to  ears  that  are  not  ready  to 
hear!" 

It  was  the  first  compliment  Helen  had  ever  vouch- 
safed him,  and  it  filled  his  soul  with  hope;  but  he 


184  HELEN 

had  to  feel  his  way  into  her  world  very  slowly;  for 
he  now  fully  understood  that  any  love  between  them 
must  be  of  the  soul. 

"  It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  you  should 
love  me,"  he  said  as  they  stood  beneath  the  tree.  "  I 
dare  not  tell  you  how  I  have  lived,  or  what  my  life 
has  been;  but  you  must  have  understood  that  before 
I  met  you,  the  sins  that  tempted  me  I  committed.  I 
have  always  had  high  ideals;  but  I  could  not  reach 
them,  and,  in  my  fallen  condition,  I  brought  bur- 
dens upon  myself  that  I  cannot  now  shake  off- 
burdens  that  perhaps  ought  to  prevent  me  from  say- 
ing to  you  what  I  should  like  to  say." 

Helen  listened  in  silence;  but  there  was  interest 
and  sympathy  in  her  eyes,  and  he  continued: 

"  It  is  a  great  thing  that  I  am  able  to  confess 
my  sins  to  a  pure  woman.  It  gives  me  courage  to 
go  back  to  my  work,  with  the  past  behind  me,  and 
such  salvation  as  comes  from  repentance  ahead  of 
me.  I  am  only  just  beginning  to  understand  that  a 
man's  character  is  his  fate." 

There  was  unspeakable  grandeur  in  his  demeanor 
as  he  said  this;  the  grandeur  of  a  storm  at  sea, 
through  which  is  breaking  the  calm  of  a  quiet  sun- 
set Helen  saw  it  and  drank  in  his  words  as  the 
thirsty  landscape  drinks  in  the  beating  rain.  She 
did  not  consider ;  she  did  not  weigh ;  but  she  noticed 
the  restless  motions  of  his  well-shaped  hands  and 
the  nervous  twitching  of  his  mouth,  and  thought  the 
whole  personality  and  individuality  of  him  adorable. 
Her  love  had  little  to  do  with  reason.  It  was  some- 
thing that  lay  away  back,  in  the  essence  of  her 


HELEN"  185 

nature.  It  could  not  express  itself  in  words,  but  sat 
long  in  silent  meditation. 

At  last,  he  looked  at  his  watch  and  said,  "  I  have 
staid  too  long.  The  train  will  soon  be  due,  and  I 
must  be  in  town  to-night." 

Then,  saying  good-bye,  he  turned  hurriedly  into 
the  path  that  led  past  the  graves  to  the  little  station. 
Luckily  the  sage  and  greasewood  wrapped  him  close, 
else  he  might  have  turned  back,  and,  like  a  man  lost 
on  the  desert,  moved  in  a  circle  until  he  came  around 
to  the  place  from  which  he  started. 

He  went  on,  however,  formulating  sermons  in  his 
own  mind  concerning  sin  and  the  forgiveness  of  sin, 
and  wrath  laid  up  against  a  day  of  wrath;  while 
interwoven  with  every  thought  was  the  conviction 
that,  of  a  certainty,  virtue  is  adorable  and  vice 
damnable. 


CHAPTEK  XXII 

As  Mark  Watkins  wound  in  and  out  through  the 
chaparral,  he  alarmed  a  flock  of  quail  which  rose, 
with  a  whirr  of  the  wings,  only  to  drop  again  into 
an  open  space  beyond.  The  birds  had  hardly 
alighted,  when  a  shot  rang  out  and  echoed  against 
the  mountain  side.  Instantly  a  man  came  stealthily 
from  behind  a  point  of  rock,  gathered  up  two  or 
three  wounded  birds,  and  returned  to  a  place  where 
a  little  smoke  was  rising  through  the  brush. 

The  spot  was  directly  behind  the  little  station, 
and  Mark  Watkins  strolled  over,  expecting  to  find 
some  cowboy,  in  search  of  stock,  or  a  sheep-herder, 
passing  from  one  camp  to  another.  Instead,  he  was 
surprised  to  find  the  man  hurriedly  re-loading  his 
gun,  while,  tied  to  a  greasewood  root  was  a  pony, 
which  had  evidently  been  driven  to  the  limit  of  its 
endurance.  The  poor  animal  was  drenched  with 
foam,  and  its  sides  were  cut  by  the  cruel  spurs. 

The  fire  was  dying  down,  and  the  only  evidence 
of  food  was  the  quail  and  an  old  'tomato  can,  with 
the  odor  of  coffee  steaming  from  its  top. 

Mr.  Watkins  at  once  suspected  that  he  had  sur- 
prised a  man  fleeing  from  justice;  and  wishing  to 
try  for  himself  the  experiment  of  Helen's  large  love 
for  humanity,  he  st>oke  as  becomes  a  man  to  his 
brother-man : 

186 


HELEN  187 

"  Hello,  neighbor !  Well  met  in  this  narrow 
path." 

The  man  started  like  a  wild  animal  and  put  his 
hand  into  his  hip  pocket.  Mr.  Watkins,  still  keep- 
ing the  better  side  of  himself  in  command,  said 
kindly : 

"  You  need  not  fear  me.  I  am  not  an  officer ;  I 
am  only  waiting  to  take  the  train  into  town." 

Still  the  man  made  no  answer,  but  laid  the  quail 
upon  the  dying  embers. 

"  How  much  further  can  your  horse  go  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Watkins. 

"  He  can't  make  no  ten-mile  gait  no  more ;  but  I 
have  friends  at  the  Diamond  C  ranch  that  will  give 
me  a  fresh  mount." 

The  assurance  that  he  was  not  in  the  presence  of 
an  officer  told  plainly  in  the  countenance  of  the  out- 
law. He  looked  frankly  at  his  interrogator,  and, 
when  the  latter  asked  if  they  had  not  met  before, 
answered : 

"  Yes.  I  was  a  witness  in  the  case  of  Cody  vs. 
Kent.  Do  you  remember  ?  You  are  Mark  Watkins 
and  you  was  attorney  for  Cody." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now.  It  was  about  some 
cattle  that  were  stolen  from  the  Lugo  ranch." 

The  smell  of  the  broiling  quail  now  drew  the  at- 
tention of  the  hungry  man,  and  he  squatted  down  to 
turn  them  over  with  his  jack-knife.  Then,  straight- 
ening up  again,  he  said : 

"  I  worked  on  the  Lugo  ranch  then ;  but  now  the 
sheriff's  after  me,  and,  if  he  catches  me,  I  s'pose  I'll 
need  a  lawyer." 


188  HELEN 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  "  Mark  Watkins  asked. 

"  Oh,  the  stage  has  been  held  up  again  over  on  the 
Puente  road  and  the  signs  and  signal  smokes  p'int  to 
me !  "  The  man  smiled  broadly  and  non-commit- 
tally.  "  You  know  it's  happened  such  a  scandalous 
number  of  times  that  the  Wells-Fargo  people  are  get- 
ting a  tired  feeling!  So  they  have  offered  a  big 
reward." 

Mr.  Watkins  looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of  the 
man.  They  were  blue,  and  kindly.  "  What  am  I," 
he  thought,  "  that  I  should  withhold  my  sympathy 
from  this  man  ?  His  crimes  are  against  some  per- 
son's money ;  mine  are  against  my  own  flesh  and  my 
own  offspring." 

Then,  going  still  nearer,  he  took  the  hand  of  the 
highwayman  and  said,  "  If  you  are  caught  and 
lodged  in  jail,  send  for  me.  I  can,  at  least,  intro- 
duce you  to  some  lawyer  who  will  defend  you.  As 
for  myself,  I  am  taking  no  more  criminal  cases." 

The  man  mistook  the  trend  of  Mr.  Watkins'  re- 
mark, and  said :  — "  Oh,  I  have  the  dough.  You 
need  not  think  I  am  going  to  bog  down  when  it  comes 
to  money ! " 

"  I  am  not  thinking  about  the  money,"  replied 
Mr.  Watkins.  "  I  am  trying  to  see  things  in  a  new 
light." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  are  going  to  turn  sky- 
pilot  ? "  demanded  the  astonished  man. 

"  !Nb.  I  am  no  preacher.  But  I  hope  I  am  man 
enough  to  meet  a  fellow  man  in  trouble  without 
thinking  of  money." 

"Yes,  that's  the  right  play  to  make.     But  there 


HELEN  189 

ain't  many  that  does  it.  If  there  was,  we  fellows 
would  have  to  go  out  of  business,  for  we  can't  work 
against  a  man  that's  good  to  us." 

This  seemed  to  Mark  Watkins  quite  in  accord 
with  Helen's  ideas.  It  seemed  to  imply  a  law,  by 
which  people  might  be  elevated  into  something  like 
honesty,  without  the  assistance  of  courts  and  lawyers. 

The  hungry  man  took  the  quail  from  the  fire,  ate 
them  greedily,  and  drained  the  last  drop  of  coffee, 
before  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  like  your  talk.  There  ain't  no  use  denying 
it  —  everybody  feels  ashamed  of  himself  when  he 
goes  wrong,  but  you  see,  when  a  man  is  out  of 
money,  he  don't  generally  turn  saint." 

"  No.  You  are  right.  Money  is  the  l  root  of  all 
evil.' " 

"  And  as  fer  law,"  continued  the  robber  philo- 
sophically, "  it  looks  as  though  it  had  hobbles  on  it. 
Like  as  not  the  sheriff  will  pick  up  some  poor  devil 
that's  not  guilty  and  clap  him  into  jail,  while  I  run 
away.  You  lawyer  folks  make  a  heap  of  mistakes. 
It's  better  out  on  the  desert,  where  we  just  rope  a 
man  and  hang  him  to  a  cottonwood  tree.  He  don't 
get  so  wearied  out  waiting  for  his  trial !  " 

The  lawyer  suppressed  a  smile  as  he  replied: 
"  Law  is  not  so  bad  as  the  administration  of 
law." 

The  highwayman  again  looked  at  his  revolver. 
Having  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  ready  for  action, 
and  that  his  belt  was  full  of  cartridges,  he  reached 
out  his  hand  and  said,  "  Adios,  partner !  Your  talk 
has  done  me  good.  I  wasn't  expecting  it,  but  it  is 


190  HELEN 

the    thing,    after   all,    that    one   gets   hungry    for." 
Then,  springing  into  his  saddle,  he  was  off. 

As  Mark  Watkins  watched  his  figure  disappearing 
through  the  sage  all  the  ambitions  of  his  past  life 
seemed  to  lose  color  and  perspective  and  fall  into  a 
dull,  flat  background  against  which  humanity  stood, 
hungering  for  love. 

What  wireless  telepathy  had  set  up  between  him- 
self and  the  man  who  was  fleeing  from  the  sheriff, 
he  hardly  understood,  but,  putting  two  and  two  to- 
gether, he  seemed  to  be  getting  the  same  results  as 
Helen  had,  when  she  took  Margaret  out  of  jail.  He 
thought  of  a  little  poem  that  he  had  read  and  re- 
peated it: 

"  Whoever  speaks  to  me  in  the  right  voice,  him 
or  her  I  shall  follow." 

In  imagination  he  saw  the  highwayman's  eyes 
dilate  at  the  word  "  neighbor  " ;  he  saw  the  heart,  so 
untouched  by  fear  of  pursuit  and  punishment,  trem- 
bling in  the  presence  of  the  "  right  word  " ;  and  he< 
felt  that  truth  might  be  struck  from  any  flint,  if 
only  the  right  voice  came  to  touch  it. 

The  rumble  of  the  train  in  the  distance  broke 
his  revery.  He  seized  the  flag  that  hung  against  a 
post  and  waved  it,  and  the  engineer  slowed  up  suf- 
ficiently for  him  to  jump  aboard. 

When  he  reached  home,  Mark  Watkins  was  con- 
siderably troubled  in  his  mind  as  to  whether  it 
were  not  his  duty  to  report  what  he  knew  concerning 
the  highwayman  to  the  sheriff's  office.  To  encour- 
age crime  was  the  last  thing  he  desired ;  but  he  knew 
only  too  well  the  frightful  tyranny  of  the  man- 


H  E  L  E  N  191 

hunt ;  the  pursuit,  the  command  to  "  halt,"  the  au- 
thority to  kill,  and  the  brutalizing  effect  upon  the 
community  of  daily  reports  from  the  scouting  party. 

As  compared  with  what  he  was  beginning  to  re- 
alize, the  law's  treatment  of  criminals  seemed 
savage  and  he  finally  decided  to  consult  with  his 
brother. 

Dr.  Watkins  requested  a  full  account  of  the  inter- 
view with  the  highwayman,  and,  after  learning  of 
the  change  in  the  man's  countenance,  under  his 
brother's  neighborly  treatment,  said: — 

"  I  am  beginning  to  see,  myself,  that  life  is  not 
what  I  thought  it  was.  As  we  have  been  living,  the 
greed  of  gain  generates  outlawry,  even  as  the  ser- 
pent's egg  generates  tooth  and  fang.  As  I  begin  to 
see,  I  doubt  whether  I  should  report  a  case  of  crime. 
But,  dare  we  tear  down  our  old  systems,  until  we 
find  a  better  one  ?  " 

"  For  my  part,"  returned  the  lawyer,  "  I  am  not 
sure  but  I  have  found  a  better  one.  I  am  not  sure 
but  I  shall  go  out  on  the  desert  and  live  'with  my 
vision." 

The  doctor  laughed.  "  What  will  you  do  with 
your  clients?  They  are  already  beginning  to  com- 
plain of  your  neglect." 

"  I  presume  so.  But  I  am  half-minded  to  turn 
them  all  over  to  Bronson  and  quit  the  business!  I 
still  believe  in  the  law;  but  it  is  a  cumbersome  old 
machine  that  needs  much  repairing.  I  cannot,  in 
view  of  what  I  know  about  trials,  either  accept  the 
reward,  or  report  to  the  sheriff's  office  my  knowledge 
of  the  man  who  robbed  the  stage.  Neither  can  I 


192  HELEN 

prosecute  other  men,  while  my  own  sins  are  red  upon 
my  hands." 

Here  the  doctor,  although  looking  very  serious, 
reverted  to  his  former  mode  of  thought  and  advised 
his  brother  to  "  take  a  tonic  and  sleep  with  his  win- 
dows open."  But  a  new  light  shone  in  the  eye  of 
Mark  Watkins.  He  had  passed  the  point  in  his  de- 
velopment where  he  needed  a  physician,  and  he 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  his  brother's  opin- 
ion. At  last,  the  doctor  said : — 

"  It  is  an  old  saying  in  California  that  if  the  true 
scent  of  the  sage  once  gets  into  a  man's  blood,  it  will 
cause  him  to  forget  everything  else  and  return  to  the 
desert.  Perhaps  it  is  the  scent  of  the  sage,  but 
more  likely  it  is  a  woman's  face.  Either  way,  it 
amounts  to  this  —  you  must  use  your  own  judg- 
ment, and,  as  His  Honor  says,  (  May  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  your  soul ! ' 

The  pretext  of  watching  over  Margaret's  bail-bond 
was  getting  to  be  rather  an  old  story,  but  the  next 
day  the  lawyer  went  to  a  barber  shop  and  had  him- 
self fixed  up  in  the  best  style  of  the  tonsorial  art, 
after  which  he  took  the  train  again  for  the  same 
little  station  he  had  left  the  afternoon  before. 

As  he  turned  into  the  path  that  led  to  Helen's 
house,  he  saw  the  burned-out  coals  and  the  tomato- 
can  that  the  robber  had  used,  and  said  aloud :  "  Poor 
dumb  testimonials  of  a  man's  need!  Good  luck  to 
you!  You  are  as  divinely  here  as  anything  else. 
You  bear  witness  to  the  unity  of  mankind.  You 
have  served  your  purpose  as  well  as  my  lady's  silver 
or  Satsuma ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WHEIST  Mark  Watkins  stepped  upon  the  veranda 
and  saw  Helen  and  Margaret  working  harmoniously 
together,  he  knew  that  everything  was  proving  as 
Helen  had  predicted  it  would  when  she  so  lovingly 
attempted  the  rescue  of  the  accused  woman.  Mar- 
garet's face  had  greatly  changed  since  her  release 
from  jail  and  at  times  beamed  with  gratitude  and 
love.  He  saw  plainly  that  the  commonwealth  had 
gained  materially  from  Helen's  prompt  interference 
with  the  staid  machinery  of  the  law.  He  greeted 
the  two  women  as  equals  and  for  want  of  something 
better  to  say,  inquired  about  the  animals  in  the  hos- 
pital. 

"  Getting  on,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  little  pride 
in  her  voice,  "  getting  on.  The  colt  begins  to  talk." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  "  you  should  see  him  watch 
us  with  his  great  confiding  eyes.  He  seems  to  un- 
derstand that  we  are  his  physicians." 

"  And  have  you  other  patients  ? "  Mr.  Watkins 
inquired. 

Margaret  laughed  more  heartily  than  Helen  had 
ever  seen  her  do  before.  "  It  would  not  do  to  tell 
you  all  the  secrets  of  the  hospital,"  she  declared. 

"  You  see,"  said  Helen,  "  Margaret  is  getting 
ideas  concrning  the  ethics  of  our  profession." 

193 


HELEN 

Greatly  amused  at  the  conversation,  Mr.  Watkins 
asked, 

"  Can  you  not  let  me  act  as  some  sort  of  health- 
inspector  and  go  with  you  to  the  barn?  I  should 
like  to  see  the  assortment  of  invalids  you  have  there." 

Margaret,  seeing  that  he  was  really  in  earnest, 
gathered  into  a  basket  such  things  as  she  knew  would 
be  needed  and  the  party  set  off  for  the  barn.  There 
they  found  plenty  to  do.  A  heifer,  with  a  broken 
horn,  stood  mutely  apart  from  the  herd;  an  old 
horse,  with  a  collar-worn  breast,  waited  with  a  dumb 
consciousness  of  his  dependence  upon  human  hands ; 
a  chicken,  fallen  into  a  bin,  peeped  loudly  for  help. 
Margaret  and  Helen  set  about  their  work  as  though 
no  visitor  were  present.  First,  the  blood  was 
washed  from  the  heifer's  horn  and  the  wound  band- 
aged with  cloths.  Then,  the  mash  for  the  colt  hav- 
ing been  forgotten,  Margaret  was  despatched  to  the 
house  to  bring  it. 

"  You  seem  to  have  disarmed  Margaret  of  her  vil- 
lainous temper.  How  did  you  do  it  ?  "  inquired  the 
lawyer  as  soon  as  she  had  gone. 

"  By  loving  her,  and  setting  her  to  work,"  an- 
swered Helen. 

"  That  is  the  science  of  human  conduct !  " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  modest  blush,  "  I  do 
not  know  anything  about  science.  I  only  know 
that  I  needed  Margaret  and  Margaret  needed  me." 

Mark  Watkins  then  told  the  whole  story  of  his 
experience  with  the  highwayman,  concluding  with, 

"  I  believe  that,  if  properly  managed,  all  people 
might  be  placed  in  such  relationship  to  each  other 


HELEN  195 

that  they  would  recover  from  their  errors  and  be- 
come good  citizens." 

Helen  felt  greatly  complimented,  but  said  very 
modestly : 

"  I  am  afraid  you  over-estimate  my  skill.  On  a 
large  place  like  this,  there  is  so  much  to  be  done, 
and  so  few  who  have  any  talent  for  doing  it,  that 
Margaret  just  fitted  in." 

The  lawyer  looked  steadfastly  into  her  fresh  young 
face.  Beside  this  girl,  the  women  whom  he  knew  in 
town  seemed  mere  bundles  of  clothing,  labeled  with 
names.  He  drew  nearer  and  took  her  hand  in  his 
own.  It  was  a  little  hand,  already  hardened  by  la- 
bor, and,  just  now,  smelling  of  carbolic  acid ;  but  he 
bent  and  kissed  it,  and  said, 

"  Helen,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  having  led  me 
out  of  the  inferno  into  which  I  had  fallen.  You 
have  done  no  more  for  Margaret  than  you  have 
done  for  me.  We  poor  men  are  very  prone  to  make 
hells  for  ourselves  to  live  in.  My  father  believed  in 
a  lake  of  fire  and  the  little  accessories  of  pitchforks 
and  brimstone.  And  I  think  I  had  demonstrated, 
before  I  knew  you,  that  the  old  doctrine  was  true." 

"  You  lawyers  have  such  a  talent  for  word-paint- 
ing, that  I  hardly  know  whether  to  believe  you  or 
not,"  returned  Helen. 

In  spite  of  the  carbolic,  he  still  held  her  hand 
and  now  drew  her  gently  into  the  path  that  led  over 
to  the  little  graveyard. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,"  he  continued.  "  I 
am  trying  to  tell  you  that  when  I  first  knew  you  I 
had  lost  my  way.  Not  until  you  taught  me,  not 


196  HELEN 

until  you  worked  upon  me  a  miracle  of  healing,  did 
I  see  any  light.  Your  ministrations  to  Margaret, 
your  far-reaching  philosophy  of  life,  your  love  for 
animals  —  all  these  things  have  turned  me  round 
and  round  and  made  me  see  what  a  strange  splendor 
can  come  into  a  human  life." 

"  Oh,"  the  girl  protested  again,  "  I  am  sure  you 
over-estimate  me.  I  know  so  little  of  the  great 
things  of  life,  of  art>  literature,  music, —  I  know 
almost  nothing  that  you  know.  The  opportunities 
that  have  been  poured  out  so  profusely  upon  you,  I 
have  not  been  blessed  with  at  all.  I  feel  just  like  a 
little  country  girl  when  I  go  into  town !  " 

"  Art,  literature,  and  music  are  yours  by  divine 
right.  The  essence  of  them  is  what  you  are !  Some- 
thing written  in  the  book  of  fate,  ages  ago,  gave  them 
to  you.  What  I  have  done  is  only  what  I  have 
learned  in  books.  I  have  attained  to  the  rank  in 
my  profession  at  which  I  aimed,  only  to  find  that 
my  soul  cries  for  something  not  yet  realized.  It 
cries  out  for  the  companionship  of  a  pure  woman; 
but  I  have  had  no  training  for  the  society  of  the 
virtuous.  If  I  had,  I  should  ask  you  to  join  me 
in  working  out  the  rest  of  this  hard  problem  of  life. 
Before  I  met  you,  women  had  seemed  to  me  to  be 
human  beings  in  search  of  selfish  conquests.  But 
now  I  feel  that  life  is,  after  all,  only  a  search  for  a 
mate,  and  that  all  the  pain  of  the  world  comes  from 
loneliness." 

They  had  reached  the  graveyard,  and  there,  with 
the  peace  of  the  dead  about  them,  the  lawyer  told 
Helen  about  Luisa  and  the  blue-eyed  one  and  con- 


HELEN  197 

eluded  by  saying,  "  But  a  worse  degradation  would 
befall  me,  if  I  were  to  drag  your  beautiful  soul  down 
to  my  personal  ignominy." 

"  I  do  not  comprehend  all  you  say,"  Helen  an- 
swered, "  but  I  am  sure  you  are  filled  with  the  su- 
perstitions of  our  ancestors.  You  know  that  I  have 
no  love  for  those  old-fashioned  ideas.  To  me  all 
children  are  in  their  places  by  divine  appointment; 
any  other  conception  of  them  would  be  a  direct 
blasphemy  against  God.  I  see  in  them  human  be- 
ings moving  toward  their  appointed  goal.  Neither 
have  I  any  prejudice  against  a  man  on  account  of 
his  sins.  If  I  read  aright,  there  is  no  sin  but  car- 
ries with  it  experience,  and  we  are  in  the  world  to 
gather  experience.  Are  you  so  old-fashioned  that 
you  still  talk  of  unpardonable  sin  ?  Nothing  so  far 
as  I  know  is  unpardonable." 

"  Hold  that  opinion  as  one  to  be  reversed  upon 
further  testimony,"  warned  the  lawyer,  with  a  smile. 
Then  he  added,  more  seriously,  "  You  do  not  know 
all,  yet.  You  will  despise  me  when  you  do." 

The  conversation  might  have  embarrassed  a 
maiden  of  the  blushing  order,  but  Helen  answered 
bravely, 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  know  anything.  I  see  no 
value  in  knowing." 

"  If  you  believe  in  me,  what  possible  thing  can  be 
a  bar  to  our  working  together  ?  I  do  not  know  much 
of  what  is  commonly  called  love ;  but  companionship 
in  a  great  word  —  it  is  the  only  word !  I  shall  never 
ask  what  you  have  done;  it  makes  no  possible  dif- 
ference to  me.  Besides,  there  is  another  thing  that 


198  HELEN 

V  • 

appeals  to  me  with  tremendous  force.  It  is  the  chil- 
dren !  Do  not  they  need  a  mother  as  well  as  a 
father?  I  have  seen  it  written  somewhere  that  the 
greatest  motherhood  is  that  of  being  a  mother  to 
other  women's  children.  Might  I  not  be  the  persctn 
to  train  those  little  feet  to  walk  uprightly  before  the 
;God  of  truth  and  love  ?  " 

Mark  Watkins  looked  off  toward  a  purple  canon, 
cut  deep  into  the  side  of  San  Antonio.  His  readi- 
ness of  tongue  somehow  failed  him  utterly  at  this 
moment.  When  he  again  had  command  of  himself, 
he  turned  to  Helen  and  said :  — 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  have  counted  the  cost  ? 
I  have  a  hideous  dread  that  the  people  whom  you 
know  in  town,  and  even  those  whom  you  have  known 
all  your  life  here  in  the  country,  would  regard  you 
with  contempt,  should  you  marry  me." 

"  There  is  something  greater  than  counting  cost. 
It  is  to  go  on,  unshaken,  toward  the  best  that  we 
know." 

"  You  set  aside  all  my  preconceived  opinions,  and 
make  me  afraid  of  myself,"  he  cried. 

"  Your  opinions  are  too  ponderous.  You  are  too 
far  from  your  base  of  supplies.  You  must  try 
farming;  you  must  learn  the  language  of  the  ani- 
mals." 

Mark  Watkins  had  no  answer  ready.  He  tried, 
with  that  smooth  tongue  of  his,  to  formulate  some 
sentence  that  should  express  his  feelings,  but  he 
stumbled  like  an  inexperienced  boy. 

"  If  I  could  only  put  into  words  the  gratitude  I 
feel,"  he  began.  But  Helen  raised  her  hand  in  re- 


HELEN  199 

pudiation  and  sought  to  draw  his  attention  to  a 
desert  bloom  at  the  upper  end  of  the  little  grave- 
yard. 

"  See  the  bravery  of  color  in  that  drouth-defying 
plant!  It  requires  no  water,  nor  any  care,  and  yet 
its  waxen  petals  never  droop." 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  "  but  you  know  that  it  has 
generations  of  drouth-defying  ancestors  back  of  it. 
It  did  not  get  its  strength  in  one  year,  nor  in  one 
century." 

Without  catching  the  drift  of  his  observation, 
Helen  began  to  speak  of  her  mother. 

"  My  mother  loved  all  the  desert  plants  and 
watched  for  their  flowering  from  year  to  year. 
Sometimes  she  used  to  call  them  her  friends,  come 
back  from  a  long  journey." 

"  Tell  me  more  about  your  mother ;  in  all  our 
talks  you  have  said  little  about  her." 

"  As  I  remember  her  now,  she  always  had  a  book 
in  her  hand.  The  large  library  in  the  house  be- 
longed to  her  father,  and  upon  his  death  was  shipped 
around  the  Horn.  She  revelled  in  the  collection  as 
though  they  were  living  friends.  If  I  have  come 
to  any  clear  understanding  of  life  I  owe  it  to  her  cul- 
tured mind  and  her  constant  and  loving  advice." 

"  Then  the  drouth-defying  plant  is,  after  all,  a 
good  symbol." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  people  inherit  their  natures 
from  their  ancestors  ?  "  Helen  interrogated. 

"  Yes.  Characteristics  are  not  acquired  in  one 
generation." 


200  H  E  L  E  K 

"  No.  But  we  can  begin  any  time,  can  we  not  ?  " 
was  her  reply. 

"  The  road  is  very  long  —  oh,  very  long,"  he  re- 
plied meditatively. 

"  Not  long  when  compared  with  eternity,  is  it  ? 
But,"  she  continued,  "  I  did  not  tell  you  that  my 
mother  desired  of  all  things  that  I  should  become  a 
missionary." 

"What!     To  go  to  China  or  the  Fiji  Islands?" 

"  Oh,  no.  Her  idea  of  missionary  work  was  to 
keep  very  close  to  one's  own  home.  Often  and 
often  she  found  work  to  do  at  our  very  door !  But 
I  saw  dimly  and  not  at  all  as  she  wished  me  to  do. 
I  had  visions  of  art  and  sat  musing  upon  the  sky 
and  mountains.  Even  yet,  I  dabble  in  colors,  as 
you  know.  But  I  am  giving  it  up  for  more  prac- 
tical work.  Everything  that  is  in  trouble  looks  at 
me  and  I  cannot  escape.  They  can  compel  me  to 
leave  off  painting  and  come  with  them." 

"  But  does  not  this  eternal  round  of  work  tire 
you?" 

"  No.  It  rests  me.  It  is  only  when  I  stop  that 
I  am  tired." 

They  returned  to  the  boulder  at  the  head  of  old 
Joe's  grave  and  she  told  him  the  story  of  Joe's 
adoption  into  the  family  and  of  her  watch  by  his 
bedside,  while  John  Stanford  and  Mr.  Austin  were 
off  searching  for  testimony.  And  then  she  con- 
fessed that  she  had  cried  herself  sick  before  she  had 
found  the  courage  to  dismiss  them. 

Mark  Watkins  realized  now  how  he  had,  uncon- 
sciously, tried  to  drag  Helen  out  of  her  pace. 


HELEN  201 

"  I  am  the  one  to  blame  in  the  matter,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "  It  is  the  way  we  lawyers  work  up  cases ; 
but  I  can  see  now  that  it  is  all  wrong.  I  plead 
guilty!  I  should  like  to  file  a  demurrer  against 
myself." 

Helen  laughed.  "  You  must  bring  me  out  some 
lawbooks  to  read.  I  see  I  must  learn  a  new  lan- 
guage, even  the  language  of  complaints,  and  writs, 
and  demurrers." 

"  You  shall  begin  with  the  legal  status  of  women," 
he  said.  "  You  know  you  are  classed  with  crim- 
inals and  Indians,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  Yes.  But  I  love  criminals  and  Indians.  I  get 
on  better  with  them  than  I  do  with  the  ladies  in 
town.  They  have  such  a  burden  to  bear  in  keeping 
up  appearances  that  I  lose  patience  with  them." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  I  know,"  said  the  lawyer. 

They  walked  slowly  away,  leaving  the  owls  and 
the  old  cypress  tree  to  keep  their  vigil  over  the  graves. 
Half-way  down  the  path,  Helen  again  drew  her  lover 
aside  to  look  at  a  maguey  plant  which  had  shot  up 
a  stem  twenty  feet  in  height. 

"  See,"  she  said,  "  when  this  plant  was  last  in 
bloom,  my  mother  was  here,  and  we  stood  together 
to  look  at  its  wealth  of  cream-colored  bloom. 
Through  all  these  patient  years,  it  has  been  storing 
up  strength  for  another  blossoming  season.  And, 
oh,  to  think;  instead  of  my  mother,  you  are  here 
with  me,  and  we  are  trying  to  make  something  out 
of  life's  meanings.  I  wonder  if  it  is  a  prophetic 
circumstance !  " 

He  looked  at  her  and  smiled  at  her  fancy;  but 


202  HELEN 

soon  he  answered  seriously :  "  Perhaps  I  have  lain 
dormant  for  some  triumphant  blossoming  season. 
Perhaps  human  beings  can  break  into  new  life,  after 
long  years  of  sleep." 

"  That  idea  is  beautiful/'  she  said.  "  Do  you 
know,  I  sometimes  think  that  our  beautiful  thoughts 
are  foreshadowings  of  something  that  is  to  be  ?  " 

They  turned  toward  the  house  with  its  shaded 
veranda,  eloquent  of  peace  and  home,  and  Helen  re- 
sumed: 

"  But  there  is  something  more  serious  to  be  done 
than  to  conjure  up  poetic  visions.  We  must  decide 
about  the  children.  If  you  are  willing  to  entrust 
them  to  me,  there  must  be  no  delay  about  it." 

With  great  firmness,  she  continued :  "I  would 
have  them  grow  into  this  home,  and  come  to  fit  the 
landscape  as  the  maguey  and  the  cypress  do,  each  as 
divinely  in  his  place  as  the  other,  each  raised  up  for 
a  particular  purpose.  I  would  have  them  forget 
any  other  life,  and  only  know  what  it  is  to  be  wel- 
come and  well-beloved." 

When  she  ceased  speaking,  there  was  something 
in  the  lawyer's  eyes  that  made  the  Sierra  Madre 
mountains  seem  dim.  After  a  long  silence,  he  said 
earnestly : — 

"  Are  you  sure  that,  as  time  goes  on,  you  will  not 
be  shocked  at  the  ugly  scars  I  have  bestowed  upon 
my  offspring?  Do  you  know  anything  of  the  sins 
that  are  visited  upon  the  children,  even  unto  the 
third  and  fourth  generation  ?  " 

"  Ah !  "  she  replied,  "  you  have  lost  the  thread  of 
our  new  thought.  Yours  is  an  evil  dream  of  the 


HELEN  203 

orthodox  mind.  You  are  a  true  son  of  your 
father." 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  can  you  endure  it  if  after  all 
they  give  no  love  in  return  for  your  great  love? 
Might  not  they  break  the  charm  of  your  life,  if  they 
should  prove  unworthy  ?  " 

"  The  charm  of  my  life  would  be  broken  if  I  did 
not  have  them.  I  have  no  fear  on  the  score  of  un- 
requited love.  I  am  willing  to  risk  all  I  have 
that  there  is  a  law  which  prevents  such  occurrences. 
Do  you  not  see  that  love  begets  love  and  that  the  pay 
is  certain  ? " 

"  No,"  he  admitted,  "  I  can  only  see  a  little  way 
into  your  thinking." 

Helen  returned  to  the  subject  of  the  children  with1 
more  determination  than  he  had  ever  before  seen 
her  show. 

"  In  taking  the  children,  I  do  not  mean  to  give 
them  lectures,  and  a  little  charity.  I  mean  to  give 
them  myself,  and  I  know  perfectly  well  they  will 
respond  to  me." 

Mark  Watkins,  usually  so  competent  to  argue,  was 
singularly  incompetent  now,  but  finally  said :  — 

"  I  give  it  up.  I  do  not  know  how  to  handle  my 
own  case." 

"Let  it  be  without  handling;  let  it  take  care  of 
itself." 

The  great  thought  underlying  her  arguments  was 
so  apparent  that  he  made  no  further  reply,  but  sat 
silently  looking  at  the  lengthening  shadows  of  the 
old  pepper  tree.  The  striking  of  the  clock  aroused 
him  and  he  entreated: — 


204  HELEN 

"  Command  me  again  that  I  may  be  sure  I  know 
how  to  proceed  with  the  children." 

She  blushed  and  laughed  outright.  "  I  know  how 
to  deliver  a  bunch  of  steers  on  foot;  I  know  that 
there  must  be  no  loss  on  the  way,  else  the  whole  con- 
tract is  void,  but  how  can  I  put  these  conditions  into 
a  bargain  concerning  the  children  ? " 

"  The  comedy  would  outweigh  the  tragedy,"  he 
remarked. 

"  But,"  she  continued,  "  I  do  mean  that  you  must 
bring  them  all,  and  deliver  them  as  soon  as  possible. 
You  need  not  brand  or  ear-mark  them." 

"  I  see  that  the  order  is  mandatory,  and  I  shall 
obey,"  he  said,  and,  taking  his  hat,  bade  her  good- 
bye. 

What  mysterious  knowledge  Nero  had  of  the  busi- 
ness, Helen  never  knew,  but  for  the  first  time  he 
came  out  from  under  the  bench  and  followed  Mr. 
Watkins  to  the  railway  station,  and  then  returned 
to  his  sleeping  place. 


CHAPTER  XXIV, 

IT  was  a  serious  day's  work  for  Mark  Watkins 
when  he  went  to  the  convent  for  his  children.  There 
was  no  romance  about  it,  no  sealed  orders  by  which 
the  purport  of  the  business  could  be  kept  out  of 
sight.  The  clock  was  striking  twelve  when  his  car- 
riage rattled  up  to  the  gate,  and  he,  with  all  the 
courage  he  could  command,  rang  the  bell. 

Sister  Simplicitas  was  aghast  when  she  learned 
the  nature  of  his  errand.  She  had  thought  that 
his  children  belonged  to  Holy  Church,  and  she  had 
a  notion  that  the  change  would  be  a  bad  one;  she 
feared  Helen  might  sow  seeds  of  unbelief  in  their 
minds  or  that  she  might  even  be  the  terrible  "  new 
woman." 

All  these  objections,  Mr.  Watkins  passed  over 
with  little  argument  and  came  safely  out  of  the 
building  with  Luisa,  the  blue-eyed  one,  and  his  son. 

Whatever  ache  there  was  in  his  heart  was  more 
than  offset  by  the  remembrance  of  a  little  woman 
who  waited  for  him  on  the  veranda  of  an  old  adobe 
house  out  on  the  edge  of  the  desert.  His  love  for 
Helen  was  of  a  kind  absolutely  new  to  his  experi- 
ence. 

As  one  who  welcomes  a  new  born  child  to  its  place 
in  his  heart  he  welcomed  her.  There  was  no  selfish 
desire.  There  was  no  gnawing  jealousy,  but  all  day 

205 


206  HELEN 

long  the  uplift  of  a  new  and  melodious  voice  in  his 
life. 

As  for  Helen,  she  pondered  long  and  lovingly 
over  her  future.  The  prospect  of  intellectual  com- 
panionship for  life  and  the  duties  she  should  owe 
the  children  to  whom  she  had  now  consecrated  her- 
self in  the  holy  office  of  motherhood,  filled  her  with 
a  sense  of  joy  that  overflowed  in  ripples  of  song  as 
she  passed  from  room  to  room  on  her  round  of 
duties.  Something  she  knew  of  the  great  responsi- 
bility she  had  assumed;  something  she  realized  of 
the  dangers  that  would  beset  the  paths  of  the  chil- 
dren as  they  grew  to  man  and  womanhood.  Intui- 
tion more  than  reason  told  her  that  she  must  guard 
against  the  vices  that  were  inherent  in  them;  but 
she  felt  sure  of  the  power  to  save  and  to  bless. 

When  the  children  arrived  she  claimed  the  privi- 
lege of  living  very  near  to  them  and  as  the  years 
went  by  she  confided  to  them  all  that  she  herself 
knew  of  the  temptations  that  war  upon  the  higher 
nature.  "  Say  all  the  things  that  are  in  your  heart," 
she  said  to  them,  "  and  I  shall  take  it  as  evidence 
of  your  honesty  and  truthfulness." 

She  early  taught  them  the  vicious  consequences  of 
impure  thinking,  but  against  the  old  dogma  of  sin 
visited  upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and  fourth 
generation  she  was  in  constant  revolt. 

It  was  eight  years  before  the  old  maguey  tree  blos- 
somed again  and  Mark  Watkins  and  his  wife  had 
striven  with  each  other  for  that  innermost  mystery 
that  turns  wedlock  into  a  sacred  office.  Other  sons 
and  daughters  had  been  born  to  them  and  their  home 


HELEN  207 

was  the  best  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  human  beings. 
Their  love  was  of  the  kind  that  points  to  the  des- 
tiny of  the  soul.  Whither  it  leads  we  may  not  fully 
know  but  one  thing  is  certain,  the  thick  musk-scented 
groves  of  sensualism  were  forever  passed. 


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OCT   1  4  1896 
SRLF 


'D  LD-Uftl 


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